


His Beautiful Abomination

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Chan, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, F/M, Female Tom Riddle, First Time, Forced Genderbending, Forced Masturbation, Genderbending, Ginny Weasley Dies, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Insane Harry Potter, Insanity, Loss of Virginity, Maledom, Master/Slave, PWP, Peggy Sue, Possession, Public Masturbation, Rape, Rituals, Slave Tom Riddle, Smut, Thighfuck, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry Potter is taken over by his dark future self and is looking for amusement. And what could be more amusing than trapping Tom Riddle's shade in Ginny's body and making her his plaything?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 42
Kudos: 582
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked. It was the first time she had spoken since he accosted her outside the common room and persuaded her to follow him.

Glancing back, Harry flashed her an encouraging smile. "A place better suited for a private conversation. We have matters to discuss that you wouldn't want others to overhear."

She vacillated for a moment before following him up the main staircase. The higher they went, the fewer people they saw, until they arrived at the seventh-floor landing, which was entirely deserted. Harry started down the hallway decorated with dusty tapestries, but Ginny halted in her tracks and fidgeted.

"It's not far now," he said, extending his hand. "Come on."

Color crept up her cheeks as she eyed him timidly. Tamping down his impatience, he grasped her small hand and tugged her onward. She started a little before ducking her head and following him like a puppy.

Convenient, that girlish crush of hers.

Trying not to smile, he led her past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and paced back and forth thrice. When a door appeared in a previously blank stretch of stonework, causing her to gape, he pulled it open and gestured.

"After you, my lady," he said with a grin.

She shot him a startled glance, then scurried inside. His grin widened, and he cast a look around to make sure the hallway was still empty before stepping inside and closing the door.

The place was as he had left it: a vast circular chamber with a complex runic formation drawn on the floor in black ink. Ginny stared at it, then turned her wide-eyed brown gaze at him.

"What is this place?" she asked. "I never heard of anything like it before."

"It's called the Room of Requirement. I come here to practice magic." He stepped closer to her, amused by how she squirmed at his proximity. "But never mind that. I called you here because you've been doing bad things, Ginny. Very bad things. You know this can't go on, don't you?"

She blanched and went deathly still. "I d-don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do. Deep down, at least. Slaughtering Hagrid's roosters... writing messages in blood... inciting attacks." Drawing even closer, he bent to whisper into her ear. "Colin, Justin, and now Hermione. _You_ did that, Ginny."

"No!" She pushed him away, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "It wasn't—I didn't mean to! I can't, I don't remember..." She clutched her head. "It wasn't me. It wasn't me, Harry, it was _him_ , his diary..." Falling silent, she peered at him with fearful eyes.

"Oh, Ginny, I understand. You couldn't help it." Schooling his expression into one of sympathy, he wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders. "It's alright, I'm not blaming you. I only want to help."

"Y-you can't!" she gasped out. "I tried getting rid of it, but it comes back, always does... I hear these whispers and I black out and come to hours later... I think I'm losing my mind..."

"Shush now," he said, stroking her hair. "It's not your fault. Few people have the willpower to resist Voldemort."

She stiffened and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Yes, that is Tom's true identity," he said. "But you've already figured that out, haven't you?"

She began shaking like a leaf. "We h-have to tell Dumbledore—"

"We could," he said evenly. "But it's a little late, isn't it? It's only through sheer luck that no one died in the attacks, and the Aurors are already snooping around. Who knows what'll happen when the truth comes out... The Ministry might just decide to make an example out of you." He resisted the urge to smile at the dread in her eyes. "You really ought to have told him from the start."

"I—didn't realize," she sobbed. "I didn't know. He was so convincing. So _understanding_."

"I know," he said, patting her shoulder, "I know. There's another way. A way to protect yourself, make the whispers stop." He gestured at the runes on the floor. "He's already sunk his claws into your soul, but I can perform a ritual to cast him out and protect you. Then you can just leave the diary for Dumbledore to deal with."

"A ritual?" Ginny mumbled with a wary look at the runes. "Are—are you sure it'll work?"

"Of course," he said. "I spent weeks researching after I found out what was happening. I want to help you, Ginny."

Even terrified out of her wits as she must've been, she blushed and ducked her head. "B-but you're only a student... Shouldn't we ask an adult for help?"

He contemplated her for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "All right. I didn't want to involve them because I overheard the Aurors talking about carting off the culprit to Azkaban as soon as they caught them, but if you can't trust me, it can't be helped." He motioned toward the door. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to escort you in case you get possessed and try to run."

Ginny's eyes darted around like those of a trapped animal. "Wait! Wait, please. I"—she swallowed—"I trust you. Can you do the ritual, please?"

It took immense effort not to reveal his triumph as he glanced back. "If you're sure?"

She bobbed her head.

"In that case," he said, locking the door with a flick of his wand, "let's get started. The ritual's a bit complicated, so you're going to have to undress." He gestured at a privacy screen by the wall. "Everything but your bottoms."

Her lips parted in shock. "E-everything?"

"It's embarrassing for me too," he said soothingly. "But the ritual can only be activated if I paint more runes on your skin. That's the kind of magic it is."

Her cheeks reddened, and she averted her gaze only to glance at him again. He hid his anxiety as he waited for her to come to a decision. The binding could not be applied by force, or else he wouldn't have wasted his time on this charade.

She worried her lip. "Promise not to look?"

"I promise," he said solemnly. Inwardly, he laughed at her silliness. She was of no interest to him beyond being a suitable vessel.

Ginny drew a shuddering breath and retreated beyond the screen. First, she draped her outer robes over the top of the screen, then her cardigan, then her camisole. After a long pause, she took off her skirt and peeked shyly from behind the edge.

"Come on out," he said gently. While she undressed, he had retrieved the ink and a brush smaller than the one he had used on the floor. "You must be cold, right? Let's finish this quickly. All you have to do is stand in the middle of the circle over there."

She sidled hesitantly from behind the screen, clad only in a pair of puffy bloomers, one arm draped over her chest. Inching into an empty spot among the runes, she squirmed as he circled behind her with the brush and pot of ink in hand.

"Stay still," he said. "I'm starting."

Despite his warning, she twitched the moment the loaded brush touched her pale skin, turning what was supposed to be a gentle curve into a messy zigzag. He clicked his tongue.

"S-sorry," she squeaked.

"That's fine," he said, suppressing his irritation. "Just relax."

She was still shivering, and he had to resist the urge to petrify her. The steady strokes of his brush gradually created a web of runes around her slender back: _Gebo_ , _Ansuz_ , _Sowilo_ _Merkstave_. The black ink stood out against the paleness of her skin, and for a moment, he lost himself admiring his artistry.

"Are—are you done?" she breathed.

"Not yet." Shaking off his reverie, he circled to her front. She still had an arm draped over her chest and her other hand splayed over her bloomers. "Move aside your arms."

Ginny gnawed on her lip, her face beet-red. "You promised not to look."

"It can't be helped," he snapped. Why did she care? There wasn't much to hide, anyway.

Her lip trembled. Realizing his tone had been too harsh, he schooled his lips into a smile.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that this needs to be done quickly or the magic will lose potency. You've been very brave, Ginny. Can you trust me for just a little longer?"

She gave a jerky nod and ever so slowly moved her arms to her sides.

"Good girl," he crooned, and dipped the brush into the ink.

He painted his way up her thighs, causing goosebumps to erupt in the wake of the brush, then moved higher. _Berkano_ below her bellybutton, _Nauthiz_ just beside, _Thurisaz_ _Merkstave_ over her heart. She shivered and gasped softly as the brush slid over her budding breast.

"Sorry," he said. "Cold?"

She shook her head and mumbled, "Tickles."

"I'm almost done." A couple more runes across her ribs, and he straightened up to his full height. "Raise your head."

She did as asked, her cheeks flaming. When he lifted the brush to her forehead, she shrank back in surprise, but then allowed him to sketch the final rune, _Eihwaz Merkstave_ , on her forehead.

Taking a step back, he ran his eyes over her critically. She swallowed and made to cover up, but his stern look made her freeze. He smiled. It was a shame, really; she had the potential to be useful in the future, but his plan for Tom took precedence.

His heart beat faster in anticipation as he discarded the brush and produced his wand. Realizing Ginny had left hers behind the screen, he chuckled and summoned it. What a trusting girl.

Her eyes went wide at his casual display of nonverbal magic. Oh well, it wouldn't matter soon. Handing over her wand, he peered down at the schematic below his feet and took up position exactly three steps before her. Now to establish the pact...

"There's just one step left, and it'll be over," he said with undisguised satisfaction. "Repeat after me..." And he spoke a phrase in Ancient Norse.

Ginny obediently parroted back the words until he was satisfied with her pronunciation. "What does that mean?"

"A protective incantation," he lied. "Now raise your wand and say it again."

She sent him a hesitant look, making his anxiety spike briefly, then lifted her wand. Contorting her lips to produce the foreign vowels, she haltingly spoke the phrase. " _My body and soul are yours_."

His lips stretched back from his teeth, and he jabbed his wand at her sternum. "Statum Pactio!"

The runes on the floor erupted in a blaze, bathing the chamber in blinding white light. A moment later, the runes on Ginny's body flared too. Crying out, she slumped to the floor in a heap.

Harry laughed and inhaled the pungent fumes the burning ink gave off as if they were the sweetest perfume. He had finally set the first of his plans into motion. It would no doubt provide him endless amusement down the road.

Ginny stirred and coughed feebly. Pushing off the floor, she rose unsteadily to her feet and patted herself with a dazed expression. The runes on her skin had disappeared without a trace.

"W-what happened?" Lifting her hands, she stared at them as if seeing them for the first time. "It was like... like my body wasn't my own. And then it was again." She glanced at him and flinched. "Why are you smiling like that?"

He realized he had been grinning ear-to-ear, but couldn't bring himself to care. _It was done_. Striding up to her, he grasped her chin and stared into her teary eyes.

"You've done magnificently," he said, truly meaning it. "Oh, you've got no idea how happy I am right now."

"Harry," she mumbled, "you're scaring me."

His responding laughter made her shrink back and cover herself up. He contemplated her with dark glee. Really, he deserved some revenge for her balking at every step and trying his patience. Besides, he had to test whether the pact had taken one way or another.

"Ginny," he said, interrupting whatever rubbish she was about to spout, "think of your darkest secret. Something you absolutely don't want me to know." His grin widened, and he laced his voice with authority, his pulse racing. " _Tell me what it is_."

"Sometimes I hear my parents in bed when I'm in my room." Her eyes went wide as saucers as words spilled from her mouth. "And I listen and I touch my bad place even though I'm not supposed to." She gaped like a fish out of water, then belatedly clamped a hand over her mouth and staggered back.

Harry stared at her incredulously before dissolving into laughter. Her darkest secret, indeed. "Ah, forgive me," he said, wiping a tear of mirth, "I just expected something more damning. I forgot you were just an innocent little girl."

"H-how did you do that?" she blurted out, glaring at him with burning cheeks. "Harry, I'm telling McGonagall and—"

"No," he said curtly, his mirth evaporating. "You're not telling _anyone_." He paced before her, heedless of her shaky wand pointing at him, as he gathered his thoughts. "You'll keep what happened here a secret. You'll continue living as before." Halting abruptly, he met her eyes. "And, most importantly, you'll continue to spill your worries to Tom."

Emotions cycled on her face before she jabbed her wand at him and began to yell, only to choke and clutch her throat in shock. Silly girl; the pact would never allow her to raise her hand against her master.

He snorted. "How rude. Shall I make you walk back to the tower like this as a punishment?"

She glanced down her bare front, then covered herself with one hand and edged toward the screen, her quivering wand still trained on him. "I'll—I'll tell the professors everything! I'll write my parents! T-the Aurors—"

He laughed. "If you try, the same thing'll happen as when you tried to cast your ridiculous hex." He tilted his head in thought. "Actually, thanks for reminding me: don't approach the staff or write your parents unless it's about school. Now shut up and get out." He flicked his wand at the door.

Ginny yelped in surprise and stumbled out from behind the screen as her body blindly obeyed the order, her skirt askew and her cardigan not yet buttoned. She shot him a terrified, teary look before she staggered into the hallway.

He swept his gaze over the chamber and set to erasing the traces of the ritual, his excitement bubbling like a boiling cauldron. All he had to do now was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom threw his arms upward dramatically and hissed, " _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_."

The mouth of Slytherin's statue ground open, and a massive serpent emerged from inside like a grotesque, oversized tongue. Harry lowered his gaze, observing the basilisk's movements from the very corner of his vision. Outwardly, he was impassive. Inwardly, giddy anticipation threatened to overwhelm him and erupt from his throat as laughter.

" _Kill him_ ," hissed Tom.

The rasp of scales against stone intensified as the basilisk slithered toward Harry. It was pointless to speak to it; his Parselmouth ability was but an echo of the soul shard's lodged in his forehead and could never overrule a command given by the serpent's true master. That was, however, of no consequence.

Harry raised his wand, no longer looking at the creature but at its controller, and allowed a small grin to curve his lips.

"Imperio," he said.

The basilisk's cold, malicious intelligence clashed against his for a moment before he ruthlessly bent it to his will. He faced the serpent without fear. Obeying his mental command, it closed its eyes, and slithering closer, lowered its head in submission.

Harry turned to savor Tom's stunned expression. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine. The alarm, the uncertainty etched on that previously confident face... It was everything he had been dreaming of and more.

"This cannot be," Tom blurted out. " _Kill him_. _Kill him now_!"

Harry laughed, patted the serpent's snout, and strode toward Tom's shade. Tom shrank back, his insubstantial foot passing through Ginny's insensate body that lay behind him, and eyed him warily. Harry's smile widened.

"So—you have a few tricks up your sleeve, Potter." Tom dug in his feet and sneered. "I underestimated you, but it does not matter. In a few minutes, the girl's life will run out, and Lord Voldemort will walk the earth once more."

"Are you certain?" Halting before Ginny, Harry stooped to pry the diary from her cold fingers. Tom must've been telling the truth. It was a shame, but he had to cut the gloating short and go on with his plan. "I doubt you'll be able to do that if I spear your horcrux with a basilisk fang."

Tom blanched, and his form flickered like television static. "No," he whispered, "you wouldn't dare." He stepped closer and spoke in a hurry. "Potter, let us join forces—there would be no one who could stand against our might. We'll remake the world to our liking—"

Snorting, Harry pivoted and strolled toward the immobile basilisk.

The shade followed at his heels, his voice desperate. "I've delved into the secrets of magic deeper than anyone! I could teach you things—even your parents, Harry, we could bring them back!"

Harry paused and gave him an appraising look. "Really?"

Hope glimmered in Tom's translucent eyes. "Lord Voldemort gives you his word."

Harry laughed in his face. "Come now, we both know that's a lie." He closed the distance to the basilisk and made it open its maw, wrinkling his nose at the stench of rot. "There's nothing you can give me that I can't take for myself."

"The—the girl!" Tom cried, flailing his arms and scattering ectoplasmic spittle. "There's still a connection between us—if you destroy the diary, I'll possess Ginevra, and her life will be forfeit!"

The hand Harry was extending into the basilisk's maw paused, then retracted an inch. Tom watched it so keenly Harry was sure he would be holding his breath if he were corporeal. He amused himself by pretending to hesitate before barking a laugh.

"I don't think you _can_ do that, Tom, or you wouldn't have told me." Lifting the diary, he made the basilisk slowly close its jaws. "You can feel pain when your horcrux is damaged, can't you? I wasn't paying attention the last time... but now, I'll make sure to watch closely."

Tom kept yelling, but Harry only stared, mesmerized, as the basilisk's vicious fang, the size of a saber, edged ever closer to the diary. When it was barely an inch away, dark green venom beaded on the tip, fell onto the leather cover, and ate into it with a sizzle.

An agonized scream rent the air as Tom clutched his stomach, his face a rictus of pain. His figure blurred around the edges until it lost its shape completely and dissolved into inky smoke. With a pained wail, the shade zoomed toward Ginny and poured into her mouth, nose, and ears. Her body shot up into a seated position, and the same agonized scream tore from her throat, not in a young man's voice, but a girl's.

Harry licked his lips. _At last_. Almost as an afterthought, he punctured the diary on the fang and tossed it away. Then his legs carried him, almost of their own accord, to his masterpiece.

Ginny stopped screaming and instead huddled with her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes darting around. Her face was still pale, but no longer deathly so, and some color was returning to her previously bluish lips. At his approach, terror crossed her face, but she quickly covered it with a watery smile.

"Oh, Harry." Her voice sounded funny, as if she were forcing herself to speak in falsetto. "You saved me."

It took all he had not to laugh. "Of course I did." Sinking to his knees, he patted her head. "How do you feel?"

Her face twisted. "It... hurts everywhere. But I think I'll be fine." Launching herself at him, she wrapped an arm around his neck and let out of a sob. "Is... is _he_ gone for good?"

Harry grinned as he felt more than saw her point her wand at his ribs. He gave her a moment to try and cast a spell before speaking in a deliberately calm voice. "No, he's not. Isn't that right, Tom?"

Ginny's body stiffened before she jerked back and jabbed a wand at his chest. "Ava—" She gasped and clutched her throat.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Harry patted her cheek sympathetically, but she flinched back as if burned. "I wouldn't try that again, Tom. You know... calling you Tom in that body feels weird. And I know you always hated your name... But calling you Ginny would be just rude, the poor girl sacrificed herself to detain you..." He tapped a finger against his lips before perking up. "Tamsyn! That'll be your name from now on, just between us."

"Like hell, Potter!" Tom— _Tamsyn_ sprang to her feet and jabbed her wand at him, only to choke again. The silly girl never learned. "What—how is this possible?"

Harry could not resist the urge to brag. Voldemort was said to be a genius, so perhaps she of all people would be able to appreciate his brilliance.

" _Stay still_ ," he ordered.

Tamsyn froze, her eyes bulging out when she struggled to move but couldn't. He came closer, and lifting his wand to her eyes, conjured a scalpel of energy at the tip. Relishing her fear, he lowered it to her collar, and carefully sliced through all the layers of her clothes, grazing her pale, freckled skin ever so slightly.

Grasping the tatters of her clothes, he yanked them apart. Tamsyn gasped, her skinny limbs quivering with the impulse to move. He grinned and ran his tongue up the thin crimson line he had left across her skin, from the pit of her stomach, up the valley between her small breasts, and to her collarbone, collecting the beads of blood on the way.

"Do as you please," he whispered, licking his lips.

Her body abruptly broke free from his control, and she recoiled with a furious cry. Bringing up her wand, she yelled the first syllable for the Killing Curse, but the rest was lost in a pained squeal. It amused him to no end that his nemesis could make a sound like a girl who stubbed her toe.

"Look." He pointed at the runes that had flared up the moment she had attempted to kill him. "Do you understand now?"

Tamsyn stared down her front in horror until the runes faded from sight. "What is this?" she whispered with bloodless lips. "A trap?"

He applauded mockingly. "You catch on quickly. Ginny gave me control of her body to trap you." He wiped a mock tear. "A noble sacrifice."

She pursed her lips and slowly lowered her shaking wand. "You'll kill me now, I suppose. It's no use. I fashioned many safeguards—"

"Kill you? Heavens, no. Your problem, _Voldemort_ , is that you lack imagination." He raised a palm to stall her retort. "Think about it: would I have gone through all the effort just to kill you? No, we're going to have lots of fun together from now on."

Grinning widely, he stalked toward her. Tamsyn began to backtrack, but his barked order rooted her in place. He circled her slowly, taking in her quivering limbs and hateful eyes, and savoring the absolute control he had over her.

"I would've preferred a more mature body for this next part," he remarked, "but since this is the one you chose, it can't be helped. I look forward to you growing up, Tammy."

" _Stop calling me that_ ," she hissed in Parseltongue.

He heaved a mock sigh. "To refuse a name granted by your master is just plain rude. Looks like I'll have to teach you some manners. _Kneel_."

Tamsyn gasped as she collapsed painfully to her knees. He walked up before her, shrugged off his robes, and unbuttoned his trousers.

Her eyes widened in horror even as her cheeks flushed. "Potter, you can't be thinking— _I'm a man_!"

He erupted in laughter at the ridiculousness of the claim. "Tammy, Tammy, Tammy. You're what I tell you to be, nothing more, nothing less. Now _shut up and kiss my cock_." Dropping his trousers and underpants, he stood expectantly before her.

The muscles of her neck tensed as she resisted with all her might, yet she drew inexorably closer to his crotch. Squeezing her eyes shut, she touched her lips to cock before recoiling.

" _Lick it_ ," he ordered, relishing her disgusted expression.

Tamsyn opened and closed her mouth in shock before sticking out her small pink tongue and inching toward him. Her lips curled in revulsion as the tip of her tongue touched his hardening shaft, but she couldn't help but run it up and down.

"You need more practice," he remarked, causing her to glower at him. Her resistance turned him on more than her inexperienced ministrations. " _Hold it in your hand and lick it like you're enjoying it. Make noises, too, as if you were tasting something delicious._ "

Tamsyn's small hand shook as she raised it to grasp his cock at the root. Leaning closer, she began lapping at it with little noises of approval. Her eyes were closed, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Harry was in heaven.

"Enough," he said, breathing heavily. Tamsyn immediately flinched back and sputtered. "You're going to suck it now, like the good little slut you are." He did not inject authority into his voice yet, just to see what she would do. "Go on."

Tamsyn recoiled and tried to scrabble away using her arms alone; his earlier order to kneel was still affecting her, so her legs did not obey her. Sighing, he sank his fingers into her red hair and yanked her head to his crotch, making her cry out in pain.

"Suck it." He slapped his cock against her cheek. "It's going to happen one way or another, so why not make it easier on yourself?"

Tamsyn gave a muffled noise and turned her head aside. Her entire body trembled, and a trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"Tammy... Baby, no." Crouching before her, he cupped her cheek so that she couldn't turn away and peered at her with mock concern. "Did you bite your tongue? _From now on, you aren't allowed to hurt yourself. Nod if you understand._ "

She nodded jerkily, then coughed, spattering him with blood. Tutting, he squeezed her cheeks to force her mouth open and shoved his wand inside.

"Episkey. There, all better. Now..." He rose to his feet. " _Suck it_."

With a keening noise, she parted her blood-flecked lips and edged toward his cock. He didn't hurry her, amused by her struggle. The runes on her skin flared and faded repeatedly, and she shook harder and harder until something gave, and she enveloped his cock in her small mouth. She moved back and forth gingerly, not taking in more than the tip.

"Show me what you really can do, Tamsyn," he murmured, resisting the urge to shove his cock down her throat. " _Pleasure me_."

Her eyes flew open, then squeezed shut again. She swirled her tongue around his glans, then took him in deeper and bobbed her head.

"Bloody hell," he gasped. "You've been holding out on me. Have you sucked a cock before, or are you a natural?"

She groaned in protest, which felt amazing with him in her mouth. He still wasn't more than halfway in, but one had to make allowances for her size, he supposed.

"Shit." He grabbed onto her hair but did not force himself deeper. "That's great. I wonder if your little cunt's going to feel even better."

She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I plan on taking your virginity too. What do you think?"

She moaned and sniveled over his cock.

"Right, your mouth's full." He chuckled, then groaned. "Tell you what, Tam. Swallow my cum— _ah_ —and we can put that off. Every last drop, or it won't count."

Tamsyn peered at him as if to gauge his seriousness, then moaned helplessly and redoubled her efforts. She still couldn't take his entire length, but her lips wrapped tighter around his shaft and she began moving her tongue.

"That feels amazing, Tammy." He stroked her head, panting for air. "That's my little cocksucker."

Tears ran freely down her flushed cheeks, and she seemed to have trouble breathing through her stuffed nose, yet she kept going. Her small hand rose hesitantly to grasp his cock at the root and jerk him.

His hands tightened in her hair. " _Fuck_... here it comes... _oh_!"

Tamsyn made a surprised noise and drew back, but somehow kept him inside her mouth as he came. Her face twisted in revulsion as she swallowed convulsively, then again. Shuddering, she let his cock out of her mouth and dry-heaved.

He took hold of his cock and wagged it in her face. The last few drops of cum oozed from the tip and trickled down his glans. She screwed up her face and leaned in reluctantly. He smeared his cum across her lips and laughed as she glowered but licked it off.

"Good girl," he said, patting her head.

She jerked away with a scowl and opened her mouth, but could not seem to form words.

"Ah, I ordered you to shut up, didn't I?" he said airily. "You may speak."

"Potter," she said hoarsely. Then it was as if a dam burst, and a tirade spilled from her mouth. "You'll pay for this! I'll find a way to free myself sooner or later, I swear, and then I'll make you suffer tenfold! I'll flay your skin..."

Harry listened to the threats with half an ear as he admired the sight. Tamsyn's face was flushed, her clothes ruined, strands of hair matted to her forehead. Saliva and gobs of semen she had missed glistened on her lower face, and a trace of caked blood remained on the corner of her mouth.

And the best of all, that defiant attitude. She was perfect.

" _Get up_ ," he said, interrupting her rant. Trudging to where he had dropped his robes, he sat on them and looked her over. " _Strip, and make a show of it_."

"Potter?" She sputtered even as her hands moved to coyly undo the lower buttons of her robes. "You... you promised!"

He broke out in laughter. "Tam, you of all people know what little promises are worth." He enjoyed the dismay on her face before adding, "Don't worry, I'll leave your cunt alone. Though I must say, you're awfully attached to your maidenhood for someone who just got one."

She scowled as she unbuttoned her robes and shimmied them down her shoulders. Her sliced cardigan was parted down the middle, not quite baring her budding breasts. She considered it for a moment before proceeding to unbutton it too as she strutted awkwardly before him. Her motions were jerky as if she were a puppet controlled by an amateur.

"You're quite terrible at this," he commented, cackling at her beet-red face. "Never mind putting on a show, just hurry up."

"You're a sick pervert," she spat, slipping off the cardigan and tossing it to the ground. "A deviant." Her ruined camisole followed, leaving her topless. "What would your mother say if she saw you?" Looking down, she fumbled with the clasp of her skirt.

"I got Voldemort to moralize to me!" Harry hooted. "Oh, that's priceless. I reckon I deserve some kind of an award for that."

Tamsyn glared daggers at him as she dropped her skirt and bent forward to slide down her puffy white bloomers. The moment they fell to her ankles, leaving her naked, she blinked, realizing she was free of his orders for now, and stared down her front.

"Feel free to familiarize yourself with your body," Harry said idly. "You'll be using it for the foreseeable future, after all."

She flushed and turned sideways to hide from his gaze.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. _On your fours, ass in the air_."

She cried out as her body followed his order without her conscious input.

" _Spread your legs more_." Picking up his wand, he rose to his feet. "Yes, that's perfect."

He approached, admiring her trembling form. Her pert little arse was hiked up, pale cheeks spread to reveal her hairless asshole. Her cunt was a smooth slit with just a few wisps of hair. He looked forward to her maturing so he could make her scream as she came around his cock. But for now... He flicked his wand at her puckered little hole, making her clean for him.

Tamsyn turned her head to glower at him with teary eyes. "So much for your promises! I—" She gasped as he conjured a dribble of oil and allowed it to trickle down the crack of her arse. "W-what are you doing?"

"I keep my promises," he said, massaging her brown ring with a finger. "Your cunt's off-limits, but we still need to adjust that attitude of yours."

"No," she said in horrified realization. "Potter, _please_ —"

He slipped his slickened finger inside, causing her to gasp. "Given that you were a man before, I figure a buggering will feel more... personal. _Spread your arse_."

She erupted in half-coherent protests even as she propped herself on an elbow and brought one hand around to spread her arse cheek. He eased his finger in deeper.

"You're so warm and tight, Tammy," he murmured, fingering her gently. "I can't wait to stick my cock inside you."

"Potter, don't do this! I'll work for you, I'll serve you, I'll do whatever— _ah_!" She gasped as he worked in a second finger, her ass clenching around the intrusion. "Curse you! I'll kill you—your friends, family, everyone you care for—stop this very instant!"

He laughed. "I love when you talk dirty to me." Pulling out his fingers, he slapped her arse and inched closer. "I wanted to loosen you up more, but since you insist, I'll fuck you right now."

Tamsyn howled helplessly, her runes flaring into view. "Don't do this!" she squealed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Help, anyone!"

He paused with his cock against her hole and frowned slightly. "You know, that's not my thing. Could we go back to threats?"

She continued screaming her head off. He sighed. Should he order her to shut up? No, he had already done that earlier, and that just wouldn't be creative.

He glanced around and perked up as he saw her discarded bloomers. Swiping them off the floor, he bunched them up, circled her, and stuffed them into her mouth.

" _Don't spit them out_ ," he said when she made to do just that. With her wild hair spilling over her face and her teary eyes glaring up at him, she looked like a cornered animal. "Shh, it's alright, I'll be gentle. You never took it up the arse, have you? Who knows, you might even enjoy it."

Chuckling at her growl, he circled her, knelt down, and edged closer until the tip of his cock touched her ass crack. She made noises and writhed, but couldn't do a thing as he took hold of his cock and pressed it to her glistening asshole.

"Relax," he said. "This is going to happen whether you want it or not. It's your choice whether it'll be painful."

She let out a muffled whimper and seemed to sag a little.

"I'm counting to three," he said softly. "One, two..."

He thrust into her, passing her tight ring. Tamsyn moaned, clenching desperately against his shaft. He waited a moment, then drew back a fraction and pushed against her tightness.

"Yes, here we go," he crooned, stroking her arse cheeks. "Fuck, you're tight."

He began thrusting gently. Tamsyn blubbered through the gag, banging her little fist against the floor. He allowed her to flail as she pleased, relentlessly pushing deeper with every stroke. She was so tight it was difficult to move; summoning his wand, he squirted more oil onto his cock.

"You're taking my cock like a proper whore, Tam," he breathed.

Gradually, she loosened up enough for him to move as he liked, and his thighs began meeting her firm arse. He didn't go hard; there was no point in breaking his new toy before they had even started. Oh, the ways he would take her in the upcoming months, years, decades... The thought made him close his eyes in bliss.

"Tamsyn," he moaned. "I'm going to fill your ass with my cum."

She moaned and squirmed, clenching around him.

"You like that?" His lips quirked. "Spit it out and tell me."

" _Bwegh_! You're delusional, brat! Pull that disgusting thing out! You sick bastard, no one ever humiliated me like this!"

"You just can't be honest with yourself, huh." He clicked his tongue. " _Tell me you want it_. _Beg for it_."

A silence fell before her voice returned, more strained than before. "I... _mm_... w-want it." By the sound of it, she had tried to stop herself by gritting her teeth. "Please."

"Say it clearly," he barked, working his hips faster. "What do you want, slut?"

"Y-your cum!" she cried hollowly. "I want your cum in my arse!" She broke into loud sobs.

"Well done." Burying himself deep, he came with a groan. Her arse squeezed him on the way back until he pulled out and deposited the last rope of cum across her crack. He smacked her quivering arse and sat back with a groan. " _Clean me up_."

Trembling, Tamsyn rose into a crouch and stared at him as if in a daze. Picking up her soggy bloomers, she crawled closer and reached hesitantly toward his cock.

He snorted. "With your mouth, you stupid slut."

She sniffled and bent down to polish his cock. He hummed as he watched her blubbery face. Her spirit wasn't broken yet, he knew—she just needed time to recover. And then he would bring her down all over again.

He nudged her away. Yes, this was enough fun for today. He still needed to clean up the loose ends and prepare a convincing story.

"That's enough, Tamsyn," he said somberly. "It's time for us to return to school."

Her brown eyes regained some focus as she absently wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"You'll pretend to be Ginny unless we're alone," he rattled off the first of the commands he had memorized. "You'll claim you were unconscious in the Chamber and don't remember a thing. You won't contact your old comrades. You won't hurt others except in self-defense. And you won't speak of me as anything else but a brave hero. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought. Ah, there it was; already thinking of loopholes. Definitely not broken. He could force her to tell him what tricks she had thought up, but where was the fun in that? He would rather properly crush her at every step.

The corners of his lips quirked up as he thought of another order, a more fun one than the boring list before. "Lastly, every night before sleep, you'll silence your bed and play with your cunt, whichever way feels best." He leaned in to speak into her ear. "And while you do, you'll think of me."

She growled and lurched away to fix him with an icy glare. "You absolute—"

"Dormio," he said, causing her to slump over in a dead sleep. "Sweet dreams, Tammy. We'll see each other very, very soon."


	3. Chapter 3

It was the first day of school after the holidays, and Harry could hardly contain his excitement. The lessons were useless to him, of course, although they did elicit a faint nostalgia. No, the reason for his elation was that he was going to see Tamsyn. He had visited her early in the summer as innocent little Harry, Ron's best friend, but then her family whisked her away on a long trip to Egypt. He had been tempted to procure an international Portkey and drop by covertly, but in the end, he had some... soul-searching to do in Britain.

Smiling languidly, he waved to his housemates and left through the portrait hole. Tamsyn wasn't in the common room, and the castle was large and not lacking in hiding places, but he knew where to find her. Ever since she had seen the runes carved into her skin, she had been researching them whenever she could.

So diligent, his little pet.

Laughter bubbled up in his throat, but he forced it down when some passers-by sent him strange looks. He could forbid her to look into the pact, of course, but he wouldn't. She had to have hope, if only so he could trample it.

Humming, he entered the library and scanned the tables. His gaze passed over a pale, lanky girl with long black hair bent over a thick book before flicking back to her. His eyebrows rose a fraction. Tamsyn had changed a lot in the time he hadn't seen her.

He contemplated her white, freckle-free skin and straightened hair as he approached. The Weasleys' reaction to their daughter's makeover must've been amusing. Personally, he found her new look an improvement, although he was certain she wasn't doing this for him.

When he was half a dozen steps away from her table, she abruptly raised her head and glanced around like a skittish rabbit. Upon landing on him, her eyes widened, and she flinched slightly.

A thrill of delight went through him at her reaction. Drawing himself a chair, he sat beside her and looked her over. She had foregone her school robes in this balmy weather and wore just her cardigan and skirt.

"I'm so happy to see you, Tammy." He put an arm around her slight shoulders and pecked her on the cheek.

She stiffened but did not pull away. His order to pretend to be Ginny was still in effect, and they were officially a couple now. Everyone thought them _adorable_ , what with their innocent hugs and holding hands and him gallantly opening doors for her.

"You look different," he remarked, unvexed by her silence.

She glared at her lap and murmured, "I couldn't bear resembling _them_ any longer. Disgusting brood of clueless blood-traitors squandering their heritage."

He barked a laugh. "Tammy, you're bloody ruthless! They're your family, for goodness' sake." Sobering a little, he fixed her with a stern look. "They still think they are, don't they?"

She didn't look at him as she spoke. "They don't suspect a thing. The mother seems to believe I'm..." Her fists clenched. "Going through a teenage rebellion."

Harry erupted in a belly laugh. Tamsyn sent him a withering glare but did not speak, her cheeks flushing.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate you," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "My special ray of sunshine, you are."

"You're insane, do you know that?" she spat.

"Most people who live to be my age are," he said carelessly. "Anyway, did anything of note happen? _Report truthfully_." He cast a surreptitious _Muffliato_.

"The eldest Weasley child has some skill in handling Dark curses. _Him_ I wouldn't be ashamed to be related to. I overheard the father speak of further action against Malfoys, although I doubt much is going to come of it. The rat's lying low as before." Tamsyn squirmed in her chair, obviously struggling to hold back her words. "Your—your orders are giving me trouble."

His eyebrows rose. "How so?"

"Because," she hissed, suddenly leaning close, "I'm forced to— _touch_ myself every night, and Weasleys, being impoverished blood-traitors that they are, lived for weeks in a cramped tent!" She averted her gaze, her cheeks reddening. "And after we returned, the girl's friend, Loony, came for a sleepover. The dumb brats usually sleep in the same bed. I was quiet, but... she never came over again, so I assume she realized."

He snickered. "And you actually care?"

"I _don't_ , you imbecile! It's conflicting with your order not to attract attention and act like Ginny would."

"Well, I forgive you," he said magnanimously. "You're a growing girl, Tammy. Don't be ashamed of your desire to explore your sexuality." He patted her head.

She growled and swatted his hand off, but he just laughed. He had never expected her to be embarrassed about something that silly. Was it because Riddle had only been sixteen when he created the diary, or was it because of some vestige of Ginny's personality? This warranted further experimentation.

Slamming the book shut, she clutched it to her chest. "I'm leaving."

"No, no, stay. You haven't finished reading this, have you?" He gently but firmly tugged the book from her clutches and studied the cover. "Campbell's _Conjuring Contracts_? Useful if a bit dull."

Tamsyn contemplated him, then slowly sank back on the chair. "You've read this?"

"Once or twice." He leaned closer and dropped his voice. "You won't find what you're looking for there. The work of beauty on your skin is older, much older."

Her eyes widened before she schooled her expression. "Are you going to stop me?" she asked guardedly.

"Heavens, no," he said. "Watching you flounder is a treat."

She ground her teeth. "You utter bastard."

"On the contrary, I could point you in the right direction," he continued as if not having heard her. "All you have to do is sufficiently amuse me."

She cracked open her book again and leafed through it, but he could tell her mind was focused not on the small print filling the yellowing pages, but his words.

"How?" Her voice quavered, as if she feared his answer but was unable to contain her need to know.

"Come on, you must have a fair idea of what I find amusing by now." Judging by a faint tremble of her hand and the color on her cheeks, she did. He glanced around before smirking. "Masturbate. Right here."

She gaped at him. He met her eyes and smiled expectantly.

"Go jump off the Astronomy tower," she said acerbically. Leafing forward to the part where she had originally left off, she resumed poring over the book.

Chuckling, he jabbed his wand over his shoulder and summoned an Arithmancy tome. Not his strongest subject, so it should occupy his attention somewhat. He observed Tamsyn out of the corner of his eye now and then as they read in silence. Ah, what a perfect picture of a young couple studying together.

Tamsyn was the one to break the silence. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"Hmm?" He turned her way and blinked in feigned ignorance.

An angry flush crept up her cheeks. "If—if I fulfill your sick fantasy, how do I know you'll deliver on your promise?"

"Tammy!" He laid a palm over his chest. "When have I ever lied to you?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, his words obviously giving her pause. After all, he had tricked her, humiliated her, and omitted the truth, but he had never told her an outright lie.

"But _why_?" Almost immediately, she wrinkled her nose. "Never mind, I understand—because it's _amusing_. God, Potter, you're deranged."

He snorted. "Coming from you, that has to be a compliment."

He waited for a response, but she turned aside with a sour expression. Smiling vaguely, he went back to his book.

"I'll do it," she whispered after a long pause. "I'll bloody do it, so don't you dare go back on your word!"

"Have I ever?" He turned her way and drummed his fingers on the table. "Well?"

Tamsyn furtively scanned the library and swished her wand under the table, casting a charm that would subtly turn away wandering eyes without making her invisible. She squirmed in her chair and sent him a side-glance, a blush creeping up her pale cheeks.

"Don't worry," he assured, "I'll be watching closely."

"Freak."

She hesitated for a moment before taking a shuddering breath and stooping over the table as if absorbed in her book. One elbow propped on the table, she unbuttoned her cardigan down the middle with her other hand and slid it under the fabric. He could see it snake toward the gentle swell of her breast and give it a light squeeze.

He eyed the students seated at the surrounding tables and those wandering the dusty aisles and cancelled the _Muffliato_. His heart beat faster. He didn't fancy anyone interrupting his show just yet, but getting caught could be fun in its own way.

Tamsyn's breath quickened almost imperceptibly as she kneaded her breast. Her gaze darted around, studiously avoiding his, before she exhaled, and pulling her hand out of her cardigan, lowered it to her skirt. Harry's grin widened as she wedged her slender fingers under the waistband and gingerly slipped her hand underneath.

Tamsyn's blush deepened as she slid her hand up and down. " _There_ ," she hissed. "Happy now? Tell me where—"

"Not so fast." He leaned closer. "I don't think you're quite into this. Keep going, and... _get off without being caught_."

Tamsyn's hand dipped under her waistband to the wrist, and a gasp escaped her mouth, muffled immediately when she bit her lip. She glowered at him even as her skinny wrist twitched with the motions of her fingers. "T-this isn't what we agreed to!"

"That's because you were only pretending earlier," he chided. "How can you expect me to deliver on my part if you don't on yours?"

Her black hair draped like a curtain over her crimson face as she ducked her head in defeat. She tried to sidle away, but he held her close with the arm he still had around her shoulders. Her arm twitched ever so slightly as her hand kept moving at the junction of her thighs.

"You must've gotten pretty good at this by now," he said, watching her strained expression. "How do you like to do it? Do you rub yourself? Stick your fingers inside?"

"Piss off," she said, her voice tight.

"It felt good, fingering your little twat every night, didn't it?" he whispered. "Ever imagined my cock stuffed up your arse as you brought yourself to climax?"

"Piss off!" she cried, shoving him away.

The hushed conversations around them cut off as the students at the nearby tables looked their way. Startled, Tamsyn flipped her book upright and hid behind it.

"Just a little argument with my girlfriend," Harry said to no one in particular.

The gawkers returned to their books and conversations, a few smiling knowingly. Tamsyn kept her head behind the book, her hair splayed over the table and her pale neck flushed. He was about to recast her attention-averting charm that had broken after her outburst, but then saw a trio of first-year girls enter the library and look around timidly. There were no free tables, and the firsties were hesitant to share with the upper-years.

He grinned and waved. "Over here! You can join us if you want."

The girls exchanged startled looks and whispered to one another. Behind the cover of her book, Tamsyn gave him a wide-eyed glance, her cheeks burning. Oh, this was more fun than he had expected.

His grin widened as the firsties reached a decision and came over to seat themselves at the opposite side of the table. He listened with one ear as they stuttered through introductions, eyeing him with awe and Tamsyn with curiosity.

"I'm Harry, and this is my girlfriend Ginny." Laying a hand on her back, he added conspiratorially, "She's a little shy with strangers. Go on, sweetie, say hi."

Her back stiffened under his palm, and he imagined her gritting her teeth in impotent indignation. Lifting her head so only her eyes were visible above the book, she muttered, "Hi."

The firsties appeared taken aback as they returned the greeting, but Harry distracted them by asking what books they were looking for. As it turned out, old McGonagall had assigned homework during the very first class, and the brats wanted references to Switching Spells. He wordlessly summoned a couple of books, impressing them to no end, and the trio decided to start on their essays right there. Tamsyn let out a quiet groan and sent him another helpless glare, to which he just smirked.

"What's the principle of... reciprocity?" asked one of the firsties, her brow furrowed as she pointed out the word.

"That means it goes both ways. If I were to, say, switch our fingers"—he wiggled his for emphasis—"I'd still be able to move mine, even though it's now on your hand, and the other way around."

"That's creepy!" the girl exclaimed, and all three of them erupted in giggles.

He joined in the laughter as he admired Tamsyn's quivering form out of the corner of his vision. Her breathing was quick and shallow, and her blush extended up to her ears. She gave a muffled moan and bit her lip.

"Is she alright?" the closest girl asked, causing her friends to look at Tamsyn as well.

He schooled his face into a concerned expression and leaned behind Tamsyn's book to whisper into her ear. " _Don't cum until I touch you_." Straightening up, he smiled at the brats. "Oh, she's fine. Just absorbed in her book."

The trio exchanged confused looks—it was obvious Tamsyn wasn't reading—but did not say anything. After some hesitation, they went back to scribbling their essays, asking him a question now and then.

"Drat," one of the brats exclaimed as she knocked a book off the table with her elbow. "Sorry, let me—"

"Don't bother," Harry said airily as she bent down to pick it up. "I'll get it." Jabbing his wand under the table, he summoned the book and handed it over.

"T-thanks," the girl squeaked. Accepting the book, she buried her nose in it.

He did not pay it any heed at first, thinking the brat was simply flustered to sit next to the great Harry Potter, but when she blushed more and more, occasionally sending Tamsyn scandalized looks, he realized she must've caught on.

He resisted the urge to laugh. Oh, this was _brilliant_.

Tamsyn's shoulders quivered and her legs rubbed against each other as her hand alternatively froze and moved between her legs. Little noises of pleasure escaped her throat no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. Turning his way, she moved her lips, but he couldn't quite understand whether she was pleading or cursing him.

Sensing a gaze on him, he turned back to the firsties. The other two were writing, but he caught the girl in the middle staring at him with burning cheeks. His lips stretched into a smile, and he winked.

"We, we should go," the girl stuttered, and hurriedly swept her things off the table and into her bag.

"Why? I'm almost done!" whinged her friend.

Ignoring her objection, the girl picked up her bag and sprang to her feet, her gaze darting toward Tamsyn and then away. "B-because!"

"Ugh, fine." The other brat capped her inkwell and collected her things. "Thanks for the help, Harry." She smiled shyly at him.

"Any time," he said warmly. "Say goodbye, Ginny." And he laid a hand on her back.

It was as if an electric charge had passed from him into her. The muscles of her back contracted under his palm and her legs squeezed together. A breathless moan burst from her lips before she clamped her free hand over them.

The firstie who had caught on scampered out of the library with flaming cheeks while her friends exchanged stunned glances and followed suit. Harry snickered as he rubbed Tamsyn's shaking back and made sure no one else had noticed.

"You did get better at getting yourself off, haven't you? Well done." He snorted. "If that lot blab, you might get a reputation as a pervert."

"Where?" she growled into the table. " _Where_ , Potter?"

"The Library of Alexandria," he said casually.

She went very still, then slowly turned her head to consider him. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her brown eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but she was clearly shaking off the daze of pleasure and humiliation he had subjected her to.

"What's the name of the book?" she demanded, peering at him with shameful hope.

"Let's not be hasty. It wouldn't do to get right to the _climax_ of things." Cackling at her expression, he patted her head. "Keep acting like a good obedient girl, and I'll tell you which circle. Then, which wing. Then, if you _really_ manage to please me, I might tell you the author."

She scoffed and slapped his hand aside. Glancing around abashedly, she pulled her hand from between her legs and pointed her wand at it to clean off her glistening fingers. She then smoothed her skirt down her legs and buttoned up her cardigan.

Taking a bracing breath, she shot him a caustic look. "What else do you want me to do?"

He looked at her with genuine surprise. Was she willing to do more already? Hope really was a great motivator... or was that a thirst for revenge?

Giddy with excitement, he took her wrist and guided her hand to the bulge in his trousers. Her lip curled in disgust, and she tried to pull away, but the strength of her girlish body was no match for his.

"Your show made me horny," he whispered. "And it's been so long. How about I fuck your tight little ass?"

"Let go!" She struggled and pummeled him with her small fist. "I'd die before letting you—"

He loosened his hold, allowing her to yank back her hand and rub her wrist. "Just when I thought your attitude's improved somewhat," he said with mock disappointment. "Oh well, I love your feisty side too."

She stared at him, then scoffed and shook her head. Shoving her heavy book into her bag, she sprang to her feet and slung it over her shoulder with some difficulty. She glanced at him warily as if fearing he would stop her, scurried to the door, and glanced at him again before ducking into the hallway.

He watched her leave with a grin. Commanding her to service him was the last resort. With the bait he had set for her, he hoped she would eventually come to him herself. And if not... _then_ he would take her as he pleased.

Reclining in the chair, he chuckled. Would his patience run out first or hers? He couldn't wait to see.


	4. Chapter 4

It only took a week before he began sensing Tamsyn's gaze on him. Up in the common room, during dinner in the Great Hall, among the dusty library shelves; her fiery brown eyes would seek him out in the crowd, study him, narrow in hate, only to dart away the moment he turned his attention on her. She would then mumble an excuse to her pretend-friends and bid a hasty retreat, as if she had returned to being a silly girl with a crush.

He let her be. Her inner struggle was infinitely more entertaining than whatever degradation he could subject her to. As far as their housemates were concerned, they had had a little spat and weren't speaking to each other. Lavender and Parvati had even expressed their sympathy.

Another week and a half passed before Tamsyn finally approached him. It was late afternoon, and he lounged in an armchair in the common room, skimming a book that was above his grade but not advanced enough to raise eyebrows. He had felt her presence—a swirling mixture of dread, hunger, and bone-deep loathing—before he even heard her faltering footfalls, but he pretended not to notice until she stood before him.

He snapped the book shut. "Why, hello there"—he glanced around—"Tammy. Are we on speaking terms again?"

She speared him with a baleful look. "Don't waste my time with this charade. Tell me where I can find knowledge on the pact binding me."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

She crossed her arms and turned her head away. "I'll let you..." She swallowed. "Do things to me."

Straightening up in his armchair, he looked her over head to toe. His lips stretched into a leer.

Her cheeks flushed. "You were going to do it anyway, weren't you?" she hissed. "This way, I'll at least learn—"

"You don't have to justify yourself, you know," he said with a chuckle, causing her to clam up and glower. "So, when would you like to have our little rendezvous?"

"The only thing I _would like_ , Potter, is to string you up by your intestines!" Drawing an angry breath, she glanced around and dropped her voice to a venomous whisper. "Just do what you will and tell me what I want to know, you damned freak."

"You're adorable when you're all worked-up." Rising to his feet, he offered her his hand. "Come, let's find somewhere more private and make up."

She looked at his hand as if it were something poisonous, but he didn't pull away. Five seconds passed, then fifteen. At last, she scoffed in resignation, and averting her gaze, thrust her hand into his.

Smiling at the small victory, he pulled her toward the portrait hole. Her hand was dainty and soft like a child's, but he knew those delicate fingers could wreak untold destruction with a wand given the chance. Perhaps he should temporarily lift her compulsion not to hurt him and duel her... it wouldn't do to get out of shape, and crushing her would no doubt prove exhilarating.

He shivered in delight at the thought. Tamsyn sent him a repulsed look, and realizing he was grinning, he schooled his expression. Playing an innocent little schoolboy was tiring sometimes.

"Where are we going?" she asked after they crossed a moving staircase to an opposite landing.

"Somewhere scenic," he said. "You'll love it."

She opened her mouth as if to demand clarification, but then only sighed. He smiled. Frowning, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held on fast until she relented.

They rounded a corner and strode down a hallway that ended with a small spiral staircase. A door halfway there—Trelawney's office, he recalled—opened to let out Lavender and Parvati. Ah, those two had always been fascinated with Divination.

The girls did a double-take at the sight of him and Tamsyn together, exchanged excited whispers, and hurried up to them.

"Did you two make up?" Lavender asked gleefully, eyeing their joined hands.

"My Tarot reading said you would!" Parvati exclaimed. "What are you doing all the way up here?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as if flustered. "Sneaking into the East Tower."

"That's out of bounds to students!" Parvati said, scandalized.

Lavender giggled. "Are you going to snog?"

Parvati gasped. "Lav!"

"Well..." Smiling mildly, Harry glanced at Tamsyn. "Are we?"

She yanked her hand out of his. "Absolutely not."

The other two girls appeared taken aback by her vehement denial, but they recovered quickly.

"It _is_ a bit too early for you, I suppose," Lavender said, jutting out her chin.

Parvati snorted. "As if you have more experience than her."

"I do too! I'll have you know I totally kissed that Ravenclaw third-year on Valentine's."

"On the _cheek_!"

Harry's smile grew strained as the brats continued to bicker good-naturedly without showing any intention to get out of the way. He put his hand on the small of Tamsyn's back, feeling her stiffen, and steered her around the two. "I'll see you later, alright? Um, please don't tell anyone we were here."

"Of course we won't," Lavender said.

"Have fun," Parvati said suggestively, causing both of them to erupt in giggles.

Waving goodbye over his shoulder, he nudged Tamsyn onward. She shrugged off his hand irritably and hastened ahead, allowing him to surreptitiously cast a proximity ward at the base of the staircase that would warn him should anyone cross it.

She preceded him up the stairs and wrestled with the heavy trapdoor until scowling and drawing her wand, but before she could cast anything, he caught up and shoved it open. Flinching away from his proximity, she scurried up onto the battlements.

He climbed out, dropped the trapdoor, and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. The square platform surrounded by crenelations housed a weathered bench, a couple of lifeless flower beds, and stacks of bricks covered by a tarp. The weather was balmy, and he could see the rolling grassland to one side and the Forbidden Forest to the other extend for miles.

Tamsyn halted half-a-dozen steps away and was doing her best to act composed, although her jaw quivered as she observed him from the corner of her eye. Smiling, he closed the distance. She retreated a step before clenching her fists and digging in her heels. He hugged her and ran his fingers through her straight, black hair.

His smile widened when she shuddered in revulsion. Nudging up her chin, he met her brown eyes and leaned in to kiss her. His lips barely brushed hers before she came to her senses and turned her head aside. Not to be deterred, he peppered kisses along her jaw.

"What are you—" She shoved him in the chest, her cheeks flushed an angry scarlet. "There's no reason to pretend to—to be _lovers_ when we're alone! Just get on with it, Potter."

"Who said I was pretending? I do care for you, Tamsyn." He tried to catch her eye, but she stubbornly looked away, her arms folded across her chest. Sighing, he walked over to the bench and sat down. "I missed you a lot. Why don't you show me how much you grew up during the last couple of months?"

She shifted on her feet and fidgeted. He could almost hear the gears whir in her head as she contemplated his request. At last, she shuffled up to him, and not meeting his gaze, reached hesitantly for the top button of her robe but came short of undoing it.

"You didn't lock it," she said, indicating the trapdoor with her eyes.

"I thought it would be more exciting this way." He decided not to mention the ward he had erected. "Why, are you embarrassed?"

She shot him a scathing look. With abrupt decisiveness, she unbuttoned her robes and shrugged them off, leaving her in a grey cardigan and a pleated below-the-knees skirt.

He spread his hands, and she tossed her robes at him with more force than strictly necessary. Snorting, he laid them on the bench beside him.

Tamsyn discarded her cardigan with the same matter-of-fact briskness but ran out of steam when the turn came for the yellowed camisole she wore underneath. A hint of a blush crept up her cheeks as she lowered her hands and gripped its hem. He grinned. She scowled, swiftly pulled the camisole over her head, and threw it onto the bench.

Her hateful eyes met his, and she tossed back her hair in a distinctly feminine gesture. Her skin was almost unnaturally pale and smooth, without a single freckle in sight; clearly a result of a potion. A wonderful contrast to her long black hair that swayed slightly in the wind.

He considered her greyish undergarment that looked like it had been washed one too many times. "So, you graduated to wearing a bra?"

"The Weasley broodmare insisted," she spat with a hint of defensiveness.

"It's kind of ugly. Buy something nicer to show off to me, alright?" Seeing that she was about to retort, he added, "I'll pay, and you can keep the change."

She gnawed on her lip, then gave a reluctant nod. Already thinking up devious ways to use the leftover money, no doubt.

"Get something modest and cute. We'll leave the erotic stuff for when you're older." Smiling at her sour expression, he slouched against the bench's curved backrest. "Keep going."

She reached behind to unclasp her bra and tossed it aside, baring her small perky breasts. Her arm rose to cover them before she seemed to realize her bashfulness only entertained him, and with a withering glare, she lowered it again. As if eager to get this over with, she unclasped her skirt and let it fall to the ground, then bent forward and slid down her off-white knickers.

"Happy now?" she growled, not looking his way.

He raked his gaze over her. Lanky-limbed and squirming self-consciously, she resembled a skittish deer—a far cry from her true predatory nature. Perhaps because of the cool breeze, her small pink nipples were stiff. The wisps of hair at the junction of her thighs were thicker than he recalled and retained their reddish color. Noticing where his attention was directed, she flushed and turned sideways.

"You're such a pretty girl, Tammy," he said, looking up. "Grow up into a beautiful woman for me, alright?"

"Get bent," she said to the air.

Cackling, he patted the robe-covered bench beside him. "Come here."

She sidled closer and perched her behind on the very edge. A small shiver ran through her, although whether that was because of the coolness of the air or his proximity, he couldn't tell. Smiling, he put an arm around her shoulders and leaned in, but she struggled to get away.

"I told you not to waste time!" she exclaimed. "Just... do what you came here for."

"That's so cold of you," he said, drawing back but not removing his arm. "Well, if you're so eager, start here." Taking her wrist, he guided her hand to his crotch.

She recoiled as if burned, then took a shuddering breath. "I just need to... get you off, right?"

He smiled in encouragement. She screwed up her face and fumbled about his fly with trembling fingers. Taking mercy, he undid his belt and lifted his bottom to slide down his trousers.

Tamsyn eyed his crotch obliquely, then made a noise of resignation and shoved her cool hand into his boxers. Her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw tightened as she gripped his cock and gave it a tentative stroke. He relished her conflicted expression, then twisted at the waist and cupped her soft breast.

Her eyes flew open. "Don't touch me! I'm doing it, aren't I?"

"Terribly," he agreed. "If you want this to end sooner, do it properly. You must've handled a cock before."

He rose an inch and wiggled down his boxers. She glanced down at his erect cock, then away. Hissing out a frustrated breath, she gripped him and began stroking more firmly.

"Much better," he breathed.

She avoided his eyes, her face set in a scowl and her cheeks tinged crimson. He groped her breasts again; she glared and jerked him faster in retaliation, but did not recoil. Yet when his hand wandered toward the thatch of hair between her legs, she stiffened and pushed him away.

"Tammy," he said, pouting, "I want you to feel good too."

"Don't delude yourself," she ground out. "I feel nothing but disgust when you touch me. Now let me finish this already." She resumed stroking him.

"Oh, very well." Nudging her hand away, he stood up before her. "Lay back and spread your legs." He raised an eyebrow when she just stared. "You said to get on with it, didn't you? I'm going to fuck your arse, just like you wanted."

Her face twisted in rage and her chest heaved. He almost expected her to reconsider this and flee, but slowly, she reclined against the backrest, her black hair splaying out on the bench, and spread her knees.

He suppressed a smile. "Lift up your legs."

Grinding her teeth, she lifted her trembling legs and held them up with her hands. He grasped her hips to pull her closer, then forced her legs wider. Licking his lips, he admired the sight. Her cheeks were beet-red and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but she obediently kept herself wide open.

"That's so hot, Tammy," he said. "You showing your little cunt and nasty asshole like that is making me so hard."

Her lips pursed into a line as she glared to the side. Smiling, he crouched before her and caressed her milky thighs. She shivered and released a breath that sounded almost like a sob. He moved lower to knead and spread her pert arse, stoking her apprehension of what was coming. As he planted a kiss on her pale cheek, her reddish pubic curls caught his eye.

"You're still a Weasley down here," he remarked, pinching the coarse hairs. "Why not dye these too?"

"No one asked your opinion," she hissed, quivering slightly.

"Have you gotten used to being a girl?" He trailed his fingers over her puffy cleft, causing her to freeze, then gently peeled it apart. "Stick anything in there yet?"

Her breath hitched. "Potter. Y-you said..."

He chuckled and removed his hand. "Of course, Tammy. I know you prefer my cock up your arse." It was curious that she seemed relieved. Perhaps she saw being taken as a woman as irrevocable evidence that she was no longer who she used to be. A line beyond which she would not be able to cling to the shreds of her identity. "Let's get you ready, my little pervert."

He pushed her knees toward her chest, forcing her to hike her arse higher, magicked her insides clean, and squirted oil down her crack. She tensed as he massaged her sphincter and gave a slight gasp when he abruptly inserted his finger up to the first knuckle.

"Relax," he chided when she clenched around it. "You haven't been loosening yourself up as I told you, have you?"

"You didn't _order_ me to," she spat.

Sticking his finger deeper, he conjured more oil. "I told you that for your own good, Tammy. I don't want you hurting... Or is it that you prefer a little pain?"

He slipped in a second finger, causing her to groan, but she stubbornly didn't reply. Clicking his tongue, he rose to his feet and spread oil over his cock. Bracing a hand against the bench's backrest, he lined up the tip of his cock with her twitching sphincter. She kept her head turned away, but he could see her eyes swivel toward his crotch.

"You brought this upon yourself, Tammy," he said. "I'd have played with your ass until you were nice and loose, but now you're going to take it like a big girl."

He drove into her. Her eyes went wide, and she cried out, whether because of pain or surprise, he wasn't sure. Even as she strangled his cock, he began thrusting slowly but insistently.

" _Fuck_ , you're as tight as I remember," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

Her teary eyes flicked to his, then away again. "Just—get this over with!"

"As you wish." He grasped her ankles and pushed them forward, folding her lithe body in half. His next stroke sank him deeper, eliciting a shocked mewl her lips. "I'll fuck you nice and proper, Tammy."

He had lubricated her plenty, and she was loosening up little by little, allowing him to deliver on the promise. She bit her lip to stifle her voice, but whimpers soon began to spill from her mouth.

"You feel so good," he murmured. "Look at you, doing your best for me."

"Shut up," she hissed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Spreading your legs and— _ah_ —taking it up your tight ass. That's my Tammy." It was amusing how his praise seemed to humiliate her more than any insult. "Have you missed having my cock inside you?"

Her jaw clenched. "You're delusional."

Resting more of his weight against her hiked-up legs, he glanced down. "Then why's your cunt getting wet?"

Her gaze flicked to where her pink folds peeked out just barely between her puffy outer lips, then away abashedly. It had been just a guess, but it had the desired effect.

"It's alright, Tammy," he whispered. "It's alright to feel good from this."

She gritted her teeth.

"Go on, touch yourself," he said. "I know you want to."

Her hand moved toward her belly before jerking back. It was hilarious, how she was becoming conditioned to obey him even without magical compulsion.

"No need to be embarrassed," he said. " _Show me how you play with yourself._ "

A high scream of frustration tore from her mouth. One of her hands cupped her breast, while the other rose to her mouth. Slipping two fingers inside, she slickened them before lowering them haltingly to the junction of her thighs. A tremble went through her as she slid them along her cleft.

"So bloody sexy," he breathed.

She squeezed her eyes shut but could not stop her hands. Her left kneaded her breast, while her right stroked her cleft before she returned them to her mouth to wet her fingers once more.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmured. "Wish I could taste you."

Tamsyn's face contorted in a mixture of loathing and pleasure as her slender body rippled with his steady thrusts. Blood beaded on her lip as she worried it with her teeth until her mouth opened in a moan. Ah, he couldn't stand this.

"Beautiful," he gasped out. "Love you... Tammy..." He met her startled gaze. "Cum with me."

She whimpered and tossed her head side to side, petting herself as he ravaged her. Her breathing grew ragged and her arse tensed around him. Suddenly, it was as if a dam burst inside her, and words spilled from her mouth. "I h-hate you," she howled, "I despise you w-with all my... wish you d-died..."

" _Cum_." Burying himself deep, he came with a groan.

"Fucking... _bastard_!" Tamsyn's eyes rolled back, and her swollen lips parted in an agonized moan. Her ass clamped like a vise, trapping him inside.

He practically collapsed atop her, his legs trembling with each spurt inside her hot depths. Panting for air, he peered at her sweaty, flushed face, then let go of her ankle to brush away the hair matted to her forehead.

Her hazy eyes met his before she averted her gaze and gave a hoarse wail. The shudders of her climax hadn't even subsided before sobs began wracking her body, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"Oh, Tammy." Pulling out with a grunt, he plopped down beside her and scooped her up in a hug. "Shush, it's over."

She wailed louder and flailed, kicking her legs, pummeling his chest, raking him with her nails. He only held her closer, crooning sweet nothings into her ear. At last, she went limp and broke down.

"Hate you," she blubbered. "Hate you... hate you... hate you so much..."

"I know." Smiling blissfully, he stroked her head. "I know, Tammy."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry brandished his wand over his teapot with slow, exaggerated motions and spoke the incantation. The teapot became a tortoise. Ever sharp-eyed, McGonagall gave him a small nod and droned on about the particulars of inanimate-to-animate Transfiguration. He tapped the tortoise's shell to confirm that it had properly changed from ceramic to bone as he half-listened to the lecture. Unlike in his new electives, he wasn't learning anything here, but it suited him to keep up the pretense.

That wasn't to say that acting the part of a clueless schoolboy didn't drive him spare sometimes. Hmm. Perhaps he ought to relieve some stress before he lopped someone's head off and ruined his carefully cultivated image.

His wand stilled as he gazed off into space. Come to think of it, his pet needed a reminder that she couldn't avoid him forever. After their last encounter, not even the promise of further information about her bond could tempt her to spend any time in his company. How strange; it had been a lovely date.

He glanced at his deskmate, who was struggling to keep his four-legged teapot in place long enough to make another attempt at transfiguring it. "Neville, could you carry my bag to the next class?"

"S-sure, Harry." Neville smiled timidly when a lazy flick of Harry's wand vanished the teapot's limbs. "Cheers. Um, where are you going?"

He grinned. "Hunting."

Neville moved his lips a few times, but then only gulped and turned away without asking for clarification.

Harry's grin widened as he imagined the look on Tamsyn's face when he ambushed her between classes. She had been getting too comfortable here at Hogwarts, a place like home to her and him both, and was due a reminder that nowhere was safe.

The forgotten tortoise crawled gamely toward the edge of the desk. His limbs quivered with suppressed energy as time ticked on. The moment the bell rang the end of the lesson, he sprang to his feet and tore out of the classroom. There were surprised exclamations from his classmates and what sounded like reproach from the old professor, but he took off down the hallway without pausing.

As he raced toward the main staircase, he jabbed his wand forward. A whirl of silver that was his invisibility cloak flew up and enveloped him in a cool, silky embrace. The Charms classroom, he decided. He didn't recall what lesson the second-years were having—it could very well be Potions or Herbology—but he would start from the top and move down the castle if needed.

The staircase shaft came into sight. The cloak fluttered around him as he powered up a moving staircase that would take him across. With a grinding of stone, it lurched under his feet and began to switch to another landing.

He barked a laugh. Tapping his chest to lighten his weight, he vaulted onto the railing and leapt toward the landing the staircase had just disconnected from.

A prolonged moment of weightlessness, and he landed lightly at the edge of the precipice. Not looking back, he dashed into the corridor in great leaps and narrowly avoided collision with two girls, who squealed and held down their fluttering skirts.

Cackling, he rounded a corner by launching himself at the wall and running vertically for several steps. The door of the Charms classroom ahead was ajar, and second-year Gryffindors were still filtering out. Skidding to a halt, he restored his normal weight and muffled his footsteps.

Even as he cast the spells, Tamsyn exited the classroom at the heels of a shorter blonde, her body language loose and her expression bored. She said something Harry didn't catch among the din and started in the opposite direction to her classmates.

"I'll come with," the blonde chirped.

Tamsyn's pale fingers tightened on the strap of her bag, but she did not object. Amused by her restraint, Harry followed them down the corridor. Their destination turned out to be the nearest girls' loo.

He broke into a run and squeezed in after them an instant before the door swung shut. Tamsyn whirled around, her brown gaze raking over his invisible form and causing him to freeze. _Fascinating_. Had she somehow sensed his presence?

"What's wrong?" the blonde asked, casting a dubious look at the closed door.

Tamsyn frowned at a spot two feet to Harry's right and muttered something unsavory. "Nothing." Pivoting on her heel, she marched into a stall.

The blonde snorted and went over to preen before a mirror. "You're weird sometimes."

Tamsyn's muted reply came from the stall. "Then why don't you leave me alone?"

The blonde wet her fingers under the tap and brushed back an unruly lock of her hair. "I didn't say I minded."

Harry wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. His little Tammy, making friends on her own initiative. He would have to think of an appropriate reward.

Tiptoeing past the humming blonde, he halted before the stall door. A faint rustle came from inside, then a tinkle of piss. He fingered his wand as he considered Tamsyn's friend, then flicked it sharply. Water sprayed out of the tap, causing the brat to squeal.

In an eyeblink, he unlocked the stall, let himself in, and yanked off his cloak. Tamsyn's eyes went wide, and her mouth opened in a shriek. Grinning, he put a finger to his lips; she clamped a hand over her mouth and covered her crotch with the other, squeezing her legs together.

"R-Reparo! Damn it, _Reparo_!" The noise of gushing water ceased. "The bloody tap just blew off... Ginny? Was it just me, or did you scream?"

Harry casually stuffed his cloak down his pocket, relocked the stall, and unbuttoned his robes. Tamsyn gaped at him before finding her voice.

"Just surprised," she called weakly.

"That makes two of us. Ugh, I'm soaked all over..."

Harry unbuckled his belt and whipped out his erect cock, causing Tamsyn to freeze. "As you can see," he whispered, "I've got a problem that needs taking care of."

"Get. Out," she mouthed silently, glowering at him.

The brat outside whinged, "Hurry up, will you? I want to change my robes before class."

Tamsyn squirmed backward on the toilet as Harry came closer, her cheeks coloring in anger. "G-go on ahead, Leanne! I'll catch up later." She recoiled with a hiss when Harry grabbed his cock and poked her cheek with it.

Leanne spoke again after a pause, sounding closer. "Are you alright? Do you, um, need a pad?"

Tamsyn squeezed her eyes shut in mortification. "It's not that, I just... have an upset stomach."

"Blimey, I told you not to eat that trifle." Retreating footsteps sounded outside. "Hang in there, alright?"

Tamsyn listened tensely until the bathroom's door closed, leaving them alone. Trembling with anger, she shoved him away.

"You deranged pervert," she hissed. "What are doing? My next class starts in ten minutes."

"Then you better take care of me quickly." He added magnanimously, "Feel free to finish your business while you do."

She glanced down at her state of undress and flushed a deep crimson. Lifting her butt off the seat, she hurriedly wiped herself, yanked up her knickers, and pulled down her hiked-up skirt.

"Let me through," she snarled, rising to her feet and tilting back her head to meet his eyes defiantly.

"Giving _me_ orders?" he asked softly. "Remember your place, Tamsyn."

She flinched, so slightly that he wouldn't have caught it were they not so close. For a moment, she glowered at him with impotent hate, then huffed and dropped her gaze. A thrill of victory shot through him when she shakily reached for his cock.

"At least do this somewhere else," she mumbled, wrapping her small fingers around his shaft.

"I would if you weren't avoiding me," he chided. "Ah, that feels nice... You're getting good at this."

She pursed her lips and looked aside as she stroked him. He tucked a loose strand of her black hair behind her ear and snorted when she tilted her head away. Glancing obliquely at his cock, she pumped him faster, clearly intent on finishing as soon as possible.

"Enough," he said. "Turn around."

Her hand froze, and she looked up at him with apprehension. Taking hold of her shoulders, he gently but firmly spun her around and pushed her against the stall wall. When he hiked up her skirt, she tried to wriggle away, but he easily overpowered her and held her down.

"Don't," she said with a note of desperation. "I'll do it better, so—" She squeaked as he swatted her rear.

"You don't want me to love you?" he whispered, kneading her knicker-clad arse. "That hurts, Tammy. But don't worry..." Bending his knees to lower himself, he wedged his cock between her warm thighs. "I won't stick it inside you, not today."

Her breath hitched as he rubbed her knickers, and she squirmed in protest. Steadying her by the hips, he began to move back and forth. He could feel her heat through the thin cotton, and her inner thighs were soft and smooth.

"Tighten your legs," he breathed. She made a resentful noise but shifted her feet closer together. "You need more meat on your bones, Tammy. Are you eating enough? You're a growing girl."

The hands she had braced against the scuffed wall tightened into fists, but she did not speak. He stooped lower and thrust his cock along her crotch, causing her to whimper. As he opened his mouth to tease her, the bathroom door creaked open, and someone walked in.

Tamsyn glanced over her shoulder, wide-eyed, but he only smirked and steadfastly kept up his newfound angle of attack. She faced the wall and clamped a hand over her mouth. The stranger entered a neighboring stall and went about her business. Tamsyn quivered and panted, but managed to stay silent. Yet just as the stranger was leaving, she abruptly stiffened and let out a muffled moan. Footsteps pattered outside as the stranger fled in a hurry.

"Who's the pervert, again?" he crowed as the bathroom's doors slammed shut. "You're enjoying this more than I am."

"As... if," she denied breathlessly.

"Can't have you having all the fun." He sat back on the toilet and pulled her on top of himself, making her sandwich his cock between her legs. "Go on, get me off." He smacked her ass.

Tamsyn shot up, but he grabbed her wrists and tugged her back down. Getting the hint, she sagged onto him, then hesitantly rose again, stroking his cock from the base to the tip with her thighs. He let go of her wrists and fondled her arse as he murmured an encouragement. Her faltering motions gradually gained a rhythm.

"Good girl," he exhaled.

She ground her teeth and sped up, obviously determined to get him off as quickly as possible. She would succeed too: her skin was hot and slick, and her pants of effort turned him on to no end. Such a sweet girl, doing her best for him.

"You're wet," he whispered. "I saw you wipe, so it must be something else."

"Shut up," she hissed. Crossing her legs, she squeezed his cock tighter and resumed moving.

" _Fuck_ ," he gasped out. "You're a natural."

Panting and blushing up to the tips of her ears, she bounced atop him, her pert arse slamming into him over and over. His breathing quickened, and he moaned.

"Get up," he said gruffly, and shoved her forward.

Tamsyn gasped and staggered off him. He sprang to his feet, and yanking down her knickers, jerked himself roughly. She tried to inch away, but he held onto the waistband as he angled his cock between her legs. Groaning, he spurted rope after rope of cum. Some splashed on her thighs, but most landed inside her knickers, pooling at the crotch.

Breathing heavily, he let go. Tamsyn shuddered, and trying not to move around too much, reached for her wand.

" _Wear them until evening_ ," he ordered.

She shot him a disbelieving look even as her hands stretched toward her knickers of their own accord. Trembling in a struggle against the bond, she pulled them up and exclaimed loudly in disgust.

He smirked as he lifted her skirt to admire the view. The cotton fabric was soaked through, and his cum dribbled down her thighs.

She rounded on him. "I can't go to class like this! The charade about me being Ginny—"

"Even if someone notices you dripping cum, they'll just think you're a dirty little slut, won't they?" he said, caressing her cheek. "Still, do your best not to get caught. And don't skip classes; education's important."

She swatted his hand aside. "Burn in hell, Potter! One day, I'll repay for every bit of humiliation—"

"Tammy, please, I'm only doing this because I miss you." He smiled at her startled look. "Having fun with your friends, not finding time for your boyfriend at all... Even I get lonely, you know."

Her chest heaved as emotions warred on her face. "Fine, Potter," she spat at last. "I understand. I—I won't hide from you. So there's no need for _this_." She writhed, revulsion written on her face.

"Don't be rude. That's my gift to you, so you would think about me all day long." Grasping her chin, he looked her in the eye. " _Thank me_."

If looks could kill, the glare she leveled on him would have incinerated him on the spot. "Thank you... for the gift," she forced out through gritted teeth.

"You're welcome." He nudged up her chin and pecked her on the lips, leaving her sputtering in indignation. "I'll see you soon, Tammy."


	6. Chapter 6

Snow fell softly outside the bay window of the Burrow's smallest bedroom. The room's scuffed walls were painted a fading pink and still held shreds of posters that had been mercilessly ripped off. A narrow bed was crammed under the slanted ceiling, covered with a soft quilt that draped to the floor.

Atop the bed, Tamsyn quivered on all fours, her trousers and knickers pulled down to her knees, and her bare ass hiked up. Stuffed inside her asshole were several striped candy canes, and more lay on the quilt awaiting their turn.

Harry slapped her pale bottom and snorted when the candy canes inside her twitched as she clenched in surprise. She shot him a glare over her shoulder. Humming a tune, he picked up another cane.

"How many have I stuffed inside you?" he asked sternly.

She looked away and fell silent for a moment. "Three," she spat at last.

He tutted. "Wrong. I told you to keep count, didn't I?" When she glanced back at him with indignant confusion, he gave her a cheeky grin. "The answer's four—after I put this one in." The peppermint flavor cooled his tongue as he languidly licked the cane.

"You wretch!" she snarled. "Son of a mudblood whore, I'll make you—"

He shoved the cane in, and her rant ended in a sharp gasp. Chuckling, he pushed it deeper until its curved end was level with the others.

"Relax," he said, "because here comes another."

Tamsyn clenched the quilt, her breathing ragged. He eased in the fifth cane, then spread her cheeks wider and marveled at how her sphincter winked around the intrusion.

"What's the count?" he asked.

Tamsyn did not reply. By now, she no doubt knew that her protests and insults only spurred him on, but that didn't mean she could always hold back her emotions. Oh, how he loved driving her to that point.

"If you don't tell me, I guess I'll just stuff in them all. Twelve of them, was it?"

Her posture stiffened, but she remained silent. Picking up another cane, he wet it with an audible slurp. Tamsyn wriggled anxiously at the noise, but the order he had given her before the start of their little game kept her in place.

"Stay still." Just to make a point, he slapped her ass. Laughing at her squeak, he worked in the sticky candy. There seemed to be more resistance than before.

Tamsyn whimpered and tossed her head. "Stop! P-Potter, it hurts!"

"Don't be a baby," he chided. "I wet it nicely, so it'll slip right in as long as you relax."

He shoved the cane inside in one go. Tamsyn buried her face in the pillow and howled. It occurred to him that perhaps he should cast a Silencing Charm, but he was too absorbed in relishing her suffering.

He allowed her a minute to catch her breath, then brought another cane to his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Lightly dragging its tip up her thigh, he sang, " _Jingle bells_ , _jingle bells_..."

Goosebumps erupted on her skin, and she shivered in apprehension. "Enough," she whimpered. "It won't fit."

He paused in consideration. "Have you been counting properly?"

"S-six," she sobbed, "there's six!"

"That's right. Well done, Tammy." He laughed. "How about we finish at seven? A nice, magically powerful number."

She craned her neck to send him a misty-eyed glare, strands of her black hair matted to her forehead. "Don't! You'll tear me!"

"You can do it, Tammy," he crooned, patting her firm behind. "Take it like a big girl." The canes in her ass rustled as he began pushing the seventh one into their midst.

She tensed up. "No... p-please. Please stop!"

He halted. It wasn't often that she said that word to him; perhaps he ought to give her some latitude. His lips curved into a smirk. Yes, why not.

He pulled back the cane, and some tension drained from her limbs. His smirk widened as he dragged its tip down the crack of her arse and to her puffy cunt. He slid it along her cleft, down, then back up.

Her breath hitched. "What are you doing?"

"This is going inside you one way or another." He teased her entrance with the tip. "I'm just giving you a choice. Where do you want it?"

She began to object, but he poked her in warning, and she clammed up. He wiggled the cane impatiently.

"N-not there!" she cried.

"Then where?" he asked with mock confusion. "You'll need to be more specific."

Her breaths came in angry bursts. "Dementors take you! Just..." Her voice dropped to murmur. "Put it in my ass."

He didn't withdraw the cane for several seconds, just to stoke her dread, then did so with a sigh. "You said it hurt, but look at you now, begging for it. Such a butt slut."

He could've sworn he heard her teeth grind. Snickering, he slid the moist tip of the cane back up, and holding the curved handles sticking out of her ass, slowly but relentlessly pushed it inside. Tamsyn gave a muffled whimper and raked the quilt with her nails.

"Loosen up," he said. "Remember, you wanted this."

She drew shuddering breaths as she seemed to attempt to do just that. The canes crinkled against one another as he worked the last one in all the way to its curved end. Tamsyn wailed like a wounded animal, sugary goo trickling from her quivering asshole.

He gently caressed the reddened imprint of his palm on her ass. "There now, it's all over. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

She snarled something that sounded suspiciously like a death threat into her pillow.

He chuckled and gave the protruding handles a wiggle. "Look at your ass swallow them. If you still had a cock, would it be hard?"

"Freak," she growled, not looking his way.

"Don't be angry, I'll give you mine any time—"

A creak from downstairs gave him pause. Someone's unhurried footsteps were climbing the stairs. Tamsyn glanced back with a mixture of shame and relief on her face. Harry grabbed the candy canes and yanked them out, causing her to cry out, even as he reached for his wand.

" _Move_ ," he barked.

A swish of his wand put her clothes to rights; another flipped her over, banished her against the headboard, and shoved a partly melted candy cane into her mouth, making her gag and sputter. As the footsteps reached the first-floor landing, he summoned a book at random, stowed his wand, and plopped down on the floor, slouching against the bed.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Molly. Her inquisitive gaze swept over the room. "What was that racket?" She did a double-take at the candy cane Tamsyn just pulled from her mouth. "Ginny! What have I told you about eating candy before dinner?"

Tamsyn gaped at her, then at the candy. "Sorry, Mum," she ground out. She sent a withering look at Harry, who shook with suppressed mirth.

"You better not have ruined your appetite," Molly huffed. Her face softened when she looked at Harry. "Come on downstairs, you two. I need help setting the table."

It took Harry immense effort to keep the laughter from his voice. "Sure, Mrs. Weasley."

* * *

Christmas dinner at the Burrow was a loud and boisterous affair. Several conversations were going on at once, food was passed back and forth, and tableware clinked against ceramic. The Weasleys were a sea of red hair around the table, but Harry and Tamsyn, as well as Luna and her father, who had been invited by Molly, valiantly represented black and blonde.

"More turkey, Harry?" Molly asked, sending an enormous platter levitating toward him.

He smiled politely. "Oh no, I'm full. It was delicious." Reclining in his chair, he surreptitiously slipped his hand under the table and found Tamsyn's knee. "Thanks again for inviting me, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly beamed at him. "Don't mention it, dear. You're always welcome in our home."

Fred winked at Tamsyn, who was squirming in her seat as if she couldn't find a comfortable position. "I'll bet he is."

"So, Harrykins," George drawled, "when are you and Ginny getting married?"

Harry ducked his head and tried his best to appear flustered. "Er..."

"Come on, mate, don't keep us in the dark," Fred said, grinning. "We have to pick out presents and everything."

"It's, um, too early for that, I reckon," he mumbled, fidgeting one-handed with his glass.

Fred and George roared with laughter. "So you _are_ planning on it!"

"Stop teasing them, boys," Arthur said with a small smile. "I'm not ready to give away my only daughter just yet. Wait a few more years, all right, Harry?"

Harry sent Tamsyn a bashful glance, while under the table, he slid his hand up to her thigh and squeezed. She flushed angrily and elbowed him. This elicited a round of laughter from the Weasleys, who reasonably mistook her reaction for embarrassment at their ribbing.

He smiled into his glass as he took a sip of fruit punch, only to pause and glance around the table. Luna's pale silvery eyes were peering at him with undisguised hostility. She held his gaze squarely, then looked down at her plate with an uncharacteristic frown.

"Is everything alright, my pumpkin?" Xenophilius asked. "Indigestion, mayhaps?" He directed his cross-eyed gaze at Molly. "Consider adding Gurdyroot to your recipe, Molly; does wonders for your pancreas, you know."

"Well," Molly sniffed, "I'll be sure to take that into account."

Harry tuned out the drivel and tried to catch Luna's eye again so he could peek into her mind, but she avoided his gaze as if reading his intentions. Oh well, whatever suspicions she harbored were of no consequence.

After everyone was fed to bursting, they gathered around a fragrant Christmas tree, whose branches sagged under the weight of assorted baubles, and delved into the pile of gifts underneath. The noises of tearing wrapping paper filled the living room, accompanied for the most part by happy exclamations, although Ron did not seem elated about his maroon sweater.

Harry also received a knitted sweater from Molly, one in bright emerald. He thanked her and promptly pulled it on, causing her to beam at him. His lips stretched into an answering smile as he wondered what expression she would make if she learned that not only did he not save her daughter last year but condemned her. Alas, appearances had to be kept.

The pile of gifts shrank until only a couple were left. Molly sent her daughter a prompting glance and cleared her throat. Sighing, Tamsyn rose from the couch by the fireplace, picked up a lumpy parcel from under the tree, and thrust it out at Harry.

"For you," she said grudgingly.

"Cheers, Ginny," he said, surprised. This likely hadn't been her idea.

He ripped off the spellotape that the parcel had been swaddled with haphazardly. Out fell a knitted _something_ the color of greenish puke. He pinched it and lifted it off his lap. It was a cap—or at least it appeared to be. One side was longer than the other, the gaps between the stitches were so large it wouldn't offer much warmth, and the oversized pom-pom at the top was off-center.

"We had some trouble with it, didn't we, Ginny?" Molly said with a strained smile. "Even though you used to be so good at knitting..."

He sent Tamsyn a covert glance. She was facing away, as if nervous about the reception of her gift, but he caught a glint in her eye when she peeked at him obliquely. Ah, so the hideousness was on purpose. Laughter bubbled up in his throat. Sure, the pact did prevent her from actually hurting him, but even then, as far as revenge went, this was pathetically petty.

"Thanks so much," he said brightly, and pulled the cap on. "I'll wear it every day."

Ron and the twins burst into laughter at his appearance, and even Arthur turned aside to hide a smile. Tamsyn's face soured.

Grinning broadly, he spread his arms for her in a silent invitation. She shifted on her feet, glanced at the Weasleys, and with a resigned expression, stepped in for a chaste hug.

"Very funny," he whispered into her ear before drawing back. In a louder voice, he said, "I have something for you too."

He retrieved the last gift from under the tree—a thin rectangular parcel—and extended it to her with faux shyness. She gave him a wary look, then gingerly peeled off the neat wrapping. Her hands shook when a black-covered journal came into sight.

"Um, it's just a blank journal, but I hope you like it," he said, reveling in her paling expression. "I know how much you enjoy keeping a diary." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Just don't pour your soul into it."

Her face twisted and her knuckles went white. With a half-stifled yell, she threw the journal at the floor and dashed out through the door.

"Ginny?" Molly cried, but her only answer was a patter of feet racing up the stairs. She shook her head. "Sorry about that, dear—I thought it was a wonderful gift. What came over her, I wonder?" She stooped to pick up the journal and carefully dusted off its leather cover.

Harry wiped the victorious grin off his face and assumed a concerned expression. "I wish I knew. I don't think Ginny's told you, but I accidentally spilled ink over her old diary, so I figured I'd get her a new one as an apology of sorts."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Arthur said, patting his shoulder. "She'll come around, I'm sure."

"I hope so." He smiled up at Arthur, then feeling Luna's protuberant eyes on him, whirled around.

She immediately averted her gaze and tugged on her father's sleeve. "Daddy, I want to go home."

"Oh, what's wrong, dear?" Molly crooned. "By all means, stay a while longer. We haven't even had the Christmas pudding yet."

Xenophilius drained his glass of mulled wine and smacked his lips. "Well, we wouldn't want to be rude..."

"Please, daddy," Luna said, "I want to check on my Plimpy. It looked a little peaky when we left."

Xenophilius straightened up in alarm. "Peaky, you say? Why, it might be coming down with Scalerot! Nothing a drop or two of Shrivelfig juice wouldn't fix, but we better have a look." He looked ruefully at his glass and set it down on the table. "You'll have to excuse us, Molly—we have an emergency on our hands."

"If you say so, Xeno," Molly said with fond exasperation. "At least take some pudding with you?"

Xenophilius gave his daughter a thoughtful look. "Can your tummy handle that, my love?"

Luna pursed her lips, a conflicted expression crossing her face, and nodded reluctantly.

"Come, then," Molly said, ushering Xenophilius into the kitchen. "Arthur, won't you bring this to Ginny?" She proffered the journal to him.

Arthur accepted it with a small sigh. "I'll talk to her."

The adults left the room, their voices soon blending into an indistinct murmur. Left alone with Harry and the Weasley brood, Luna shifted on her feet.

"Goodbye," she blurted out, and bid a hasty retreat.

The twins paused in their mock duel with their new Beater bats and exchanged perplexed looks, while Ron just grunted and waved lazily from the couch.

"I'll see her out," Harry said.

No one seemed inclined to accompany him; perfect. He stepped out of the living room, glanced at the kitchen, where Molly was piling up food for Xenophilius, and made for the shadowy entryway.

Luna was in the middle of buttoning up her violently yellow winter coat when she saw him and froze. Smiling mildly, he came closer. She stayed her ground and watched him without blinking, although when he was just a step away, she finally retreated an inch.

Planting a palm against the wall above her shoulder, he looked her in the eye and scanned her surface thoughts. "I get the feeling you don't like me very much, Luna. Why is that?"

She glanced at the hallway, from which her father's and Molly's voices were drifting out, and jutted out her little chin. "Because you're doing awful things to Ginny. Even if you're her boyfriend, you ought to stop."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "What sort of things am I doing to her?"

Luna didn't back down. "Touching her when she doesn't want you to. Reminding her of that diary."

He reeled back, and his hand stretched toward his pocket before he recalled he had left his wand up in Ron's room. "And what would you know of the diary?" The words came out harsher than he intended.

Luna shrank back and glanced at the hallway again. "Only that Ginny was very upset about it last year, but now she won't speak a word." She took a bracing breath. "That was bullying, what you did. I don't think you're a good person, Harry Potter."

He stared at her, then laughed. For some reason, Luna appeared even more scared than before. "No, I suppose I'm not." Turning around, he waved over his shoulder. "I'll see you at Hogwarts."

He meant it. No one knew about Riddle's diary except him, Tamsyn, and Lucius Malfoy—or so he had thought. He would have to keep an eye on Luna from now on. Fortunately, from what he had gleaned, she was only aware of the diary's existence and not its role in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

Besides, it was _Luna_. Even if she told someone, no one would believe her.

His posture relaxed as he strolled back to the living room. Yes, there was no need to be overly concerned. Even though Luna was perceptive enough to notice that something untoward was going on between him and Ginny, she remained oblivious to the fact that Ginny's body was inhabited by a murderous monster. What's more, she even rose to said monster's defense. How touching.

"Wha'choo grinning for?" Ron mumbled around a generous slice of pudding.

He laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Just happy to be here."

He truly was, Harry reflected as he settled in before the merrily crackling fireplace with a cup of cocoa, although his joy was derived less from the Weasleys' familial warmth and more from watching Tamsyn struggle to play the role of their daughter.

He perked up when he saw Arthur bring a downcast Tamsyn into the living room and barely resisted the urge to cackle when Molly jerked her head meaningfully toward him. Tamsyn scowled and walked up to him with obvious reluctance.

"Thanks for the journal," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll... treasure it."

"So you liked it?" he asked with wide eyes. "Oh, I'm so relieved!" Smiling bashfully, he patted the couch beside him.

Tamsyn shot him a venomous look before schooling her expression and perching down a decorous distance apart. He reached for her hand and grinned when she didn't pull away. Molly cooed and flitted off to bring more food, while the twins launched into a round of ribbing. Tamsyn demonstrated her displeasure by digging her nails into his palm, and he took a sip from his cup to hide his wince. Such bliss.

The evening went by in a blur of laughter, Molly's pudding, and deafening explosions of wizarding crackers that left behind random knick-knacks. Harry ended up covered head-to-toe in confetti and wearing a gaudy necklace, while Tamsyn, against her protests, was forced to don a pink pointy hat and oversized spectacles. He made certain to mention how utterly cute she looked at every opportunity.

Before long, Molly told them it was time for bed. Ron erupted in objections despite nodding off for the past half an hour, but she wouldn't hear a thing.

Ron grumbled for show, then looked around the room. "Bagsy the shower first."

Fred and George both looked up. "Oh no you don't!"

The brats glared at one another, then abruptly dashed out of the living room. Tamsyn, who had been creeping toward the door herself, was mercilessly shoved out of their way.

Molly tutted. "These boys, I swear... Sorry, Harry, you'll have to wait your turn."

"That's fine, Mrs. Weasley," he said graciously. Rising to his feet, he opened his arms for Tamsyn. "Good night, Ginny."

She folded her arms and didn't move. "Good night."

Not to be deterred, he stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. "Prepare yourself tonight," he whispered.

A look of hate crossed her face. She schooled her features quickly, but could not hide the color in her cheeks.

Grinning, he preceded her up the stairs and ducked into Ron's bedroom, where a foldable bed had been set up for him. Ron lay on his own obnoxiously orange bed, apparently beaten to the bathroom by his older brothers.

"Not a bad haul this year, huh?" he said, yawning. "Blimey, you're still wearing that hideous thing?"

Harry chuckled as he pulled off his knit cap. "It has a certain charm to it."

Ron shook his head. "You must be mental." He perked up at a creak of a floorboard outside. "Sounds like George's done. You don't mind if I go first, do you, mate?"

Harry magnanimously waved him on, and Ron went off to shower. Reclining on the foldable bed, he mused about how he was going to toy with Tamsyn tonight. He would be gentle, he decided. Show how much he cared for her.

Ron gave him a strange look upon returning, and he realized he was grinning ear-to-ear. He traipsed off into the steamy bathroom and luxuriated under the hot water to his content. By the time he tiptoed back into the bedroom, Ron was already snoring. Just like he wanted.

He rummaged in his trunk for his invisibility cloak and settled into bed, listening to the noises of the well lived-in house. When Tamsyn's light, hesitant footsteps fell in the hallway, followed by the sound of running water, he broke into an anticipatory grin.

After a long time, even longer than he had spent under the shower, he heard Tamsyn return to her bedroom. He squashed an impulse to go after her right then. The longer he waited, the more her apprehension would torment her, keeping her awake as she wondered whether he would come or not.

Molly's heavier footsteps climbed the stairs, and after a minute, he heard her hushedly berate the twins for keeping the light on. Then she returned downstairs, and silence fell again, save for Ron's incessant snores. He remained still until he could no longer control himself.

Springing upright, he bunched up the blankets so it would look like someone lay in his bed and draped his invisibility cloak over himself. He cast a silencing charm on his feet, then jabbed his wand in Ron's direction.

"Dormio," he whispered. The precaution probably wasn't necessary, but he didn't want to risk anyone discovering him tonight.

His heart beat faster as he ventured out into the shadowy hallway. The door into Ginny's bedroom was the first from the staircase landing. Silent as a ghost, he sneaked over and reached for the doorknob before stopping. His skin tingled slightly and the hairs on his forearm rose as if from static.

Drawing his wand, he ran it over the doorknob and suppressed a chuckle. A basic intrusion ward. He dismantled it with nary a thought, silenced the door hinges, and grinning, let himself inside.

Tamsyn's head jerked up from the pillow, her large eyes darting around in search of his invisible form, and her face white in the moonlight that filtered through the ajar curtains. His grin dwindled at not being able to surprise her; closing the door, he pulled off his cloak and silenced the room.

"How nice of you to wait up for me," he said, striding up to the bed. When Tamsyn began sitting up, he added, "No, no, stay just like that. I wouldn't want to pull you out of your comfy bed."

She scoffed incredulously. "Then _leave_."

"And miss the rare opportunity to spend the night with my adorable girlfriend? I don't think so." He relished the caustic look on her face. "Besides, we went through all that effort to loosen you up today. Can't let that go to waste."

She turned away with a snarl. Chuckling, he stripped to his boxers and lifted the bedspread. He glimpsed her bear-print pyjamas before she sidled toward the wall to put more distance between them.

He grinned as he slipped in under the warm covers. "Why, thank you for making space for me." The bed creaked under his weight and was so short he could barely stretch out his legs, but that was a small price to pay.

Her cheeks flushed, and she rolled to face the wall. "As if you wouldn't get in otherwise, you sick bastard." She drew an angry breath. "I'm not doing anything for you, do you hear? Order me all you like, but you'll never break my will!"

"Shush, now." He nudged the bedspread lower and stroked her shoulder. "I won't order you, and you don't have to do a thing." Leaning closer, he kissed the crown of her head. Her hair was slightly damp and smelled faintly of flowers. "Just lie there and enjoy it."

She rounded on him. "Who would—" Coming face-to-face with him, she swallowed and turned her back to him again. "Go die in a ditch."

He laughed as he ran his palm over the slender curve of her back. "Such a foul mouth on a pretty little girl. I love the contrast."

"I'm not a—" Her breath hitched as his hand glided lower and squeezed her buttock, and she pressed herself against the wall to get away.

Laughing, he wiggled closer and slipped his hand under her pyjama top from the front. "Your self was changed irrevocably when it took root in this body," he whispered. "You may as well admit you're no longer who you used to be."

"Never," she hissed. "I'm Voldemort—I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle—" Her voice cracked as he cupped her soft breast.

"And here I thought you hated that name," he murmured. "I can call you Tom as I take you tonight if you like."

She trembled with indignation. He chuckled into her hair and planted a kiss on her nape as he leisurely explored her body with his hands. Tamsyn lay there dead-still, but she wasn't entirely able to control her breathing, which had clearly grown faster.

"You make such a lovely girl," he whispered as he fondled her. "So soft and warm, and you smell so good. God, Tamsyn, you're driving me wild."

She exhaled loudly and ground her teeth in impotent fury. The compliments he paid her current form cut her deeper than the vilest insult.

He trailed his hands down her sides and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. She did not lift herself, so it took him a while to tug them down. His cock twitched in anticipation when he slipped a finger down the crack of her arse and sought out her puckered hole. She was lubed up and hot.

"Good girl," he breathed.

He teased her ass, enjoying the sound of her quickening breaths, but his desire soon got the better off him. Pulling out his finger, he tugged her closer by her hips until his cock brushed her soft flesh. Tamsyn shuddered at the contact, but trapped between him and the wall, she couldn't escape.

He wriggled closer and spooned her from behind. Taking hold of his cock, he found her slickened backdoor and thrust in. A momentary resistance, and he was enveloped by her tight walls.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathed. "I missed being inside you, Tammy."

She hissed out a breath but did not speak. Resting a hand on her hip, he gently made love to her. Her slick canal accepted him easily, allowing him to plunge deep.

"You feel so bloody good," he gasped out.

Heat crept up her neck, and her raised hands balled into fists. He inhaled the scent of her hair, nuzzled her nape, kissed her slender shoulder. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. He wished he could see her face: her strained expression, teary eyes, teeth clenched not to make a sound that would betray that she was feeling anything but revulsion from the act. Ah, just imagining it...

He moaned and moved faster. His hand rose to play with her breast and found her nipple stiff. When he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, she let out a little whimper that was music to his ears.

"Such a lovely voice," he breathed.

Tightening his hold on her to the point where she gasped, he gave a few frantic thrusts and came with her name on his lips. Tamsyn went rigid and stifled a sob. Only when his pleasure receded did he realize he had called her Tom.

He laughed breathlessly. It did not seem like she was very happy about being called by her old name after all. Perhaps it reminded her of the life she had lost.

"At least you're quick about it," she said snidely, but he could tell she was shaken.

He snuggled into her from behind. "I'll make sure to love you longer the next time," he murmured.

She stiffened, then squirmed in his arms. "Let me up," she gritted out.

"Stay." He hugged her tighter, his eyelids fluttering shut.

She squirmed some more, then huffed out a defeated breath. "Potter, I need to clean up. Potter? Don't tell me you're going to stay here!"

" _Sleep with me_ ," he mumbled into her hair.

Tamsyn made a last exhalation of protest and went limp. Listening to her slowing breathing, he blissfully drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The Great Hall rang with the chatter of the students and the clatter of dishes and silverware. Harry ate his meal surrounded by his housemates but not participating in their inane conversations beyond the bare minimum. The reason he got himself sorted into Gryffindor wasn't so he could be with friends—the concept had long since lost its meaning—but because it suited his goals.

Lifting a cup of tea to his lips, he was about to take a sip when a heady blend of scents tickled his nostrils. Blood, smoke, and treacle tart. His eyes narrowed, and he surreptitiously looked around. Who had been foolish enough to slip him a love potion?

He blew at the tea to justify his delay in drinking it as he scanned the Great Hall. His gaze passed over Tamsyn, who sat a dozen seats down the table, before returning to scrutinize her in greater detail. She was clutching her fork so hard her knuckles were white and pointedly not looking in his direction. By itself, that wouldn't be unusual, but...

He resisted the urge to laugh. After all this time, she had finally made her move. It was curious that the pact did not preclude her from attempting to manipulate him in this manner.

He swirled the cup, thought chasing thought in his head, then took a long, deliberate sip. Flashes of memories rushed through his mind: Tamsyn's pale nape, the long black hair smelling faintly of soap, the sweet, tortured expression on her face as he took her. A delightful shiver went down his spine, and he found himself seeking her out with his eyes again.

He savored the laced tea and watched her until the hunger inside him grew unbearable. He did not resist it, springing to his feet and allowing them to carry him toward her.

"Ginny," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Stiffening almost imperceptibly, she glanced back. "What is it?"

"I wanted to walk back together," he said, pouting at her cool tone.

Triumph flashed in her eyes, and she quickly turned to her plate. "Alright, then," she said evenly, "I'm almost finished."

The witches beside her giggled and engaged in some friendly ribbing that Harry barely registered. He shifted from foot to foot, smiling at the back of Tamsyn's head like a dolt. The minute it took her to finish her meal felt like an hour. Some cold part of him that remained unaffected studied his own reactions with detached curiosity.

At last, Tamsyn laid down her silverware, dabbed her lips with a napkin, and rose from the table. Beaming, he offered her his hand; a scowl crossed her face before she accepted it and even managed to crack a smile. Hand in hand, they left the Great Hall.

"What are you playing at?" she asked coolly once they were out of earshot of the rabble.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently. "I simply missed you." He squeezed her hand.

She winced but did not pull away. "You were perfectly happy to leave me be lately. And weren't we supposedly having a row?"

"I just realized how much you mean to me," he said, smiling. "All of a sudden, the idea of not being with you seemed terrifying."

Pursing her lips, she regarded him out of the corner of her eye. He kept smiling as he walked, swinging their joined hands and basking in bliss that was only partly artificial.

"I want to talk to you," she said, slowing abruptly. "In private."

His smile widened. "I can't wait, Tammy."

Visibly suppressing her distaste, she tugged him toward an unused classroom. "Follow me." Shoving the door open, she pulled him inside and locked it.

He hugged her from behind and buried his nose in her hair. "Oh, Tammy. I'm so glad you're finally warming up to me."

"I don't—that's not why we're here!" Wriggling out of his arms, she faced him and took a deep breath. Slowly, she raised a hand to his chest and looked him in the eye. "Pot— _Harry_. Did you mean it, what you said just earlier?"

He clasped his hand over hers. "About how much you mean to me? Every word."

"Then..." She stepped closer and peered up at him imploringly. "Won't you break this disgusting bond you hold over me? I want to..." It looked like it physically hurt her to speak the next words. "I want to be with you... of my own free will."

Laughing, he enveloped her in his arms and spun her around, causing her to squeak. He let her down and regarded her fondly. "You've no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. But..." He pulled a face. "I can't break the pact just like that."

Rage flashed in her eyes, and she smacked his chest. "You said you cared about me!" Taking a shuddering breath, she schooled her expression and sweetened her voice. "Don't you love me, Harry?"

The clumsy attempt at employing her girlish charm only made her more endearing in his eyes. "It's not that I won't," he said sincerely, "I can't."

"You're lying!" Her wand appeared in her hand, and she jabbed it under his chin. "No magic is unbreakable." She searched his face and paled. "It can't be."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Tammy," he assured. "The source didn't provide a way to break it one-sidedly—"

"The source," she snapped. "What is it, where?"

"The title translates to something like 'Creation of a Human Puppet' from Ancient Norse," he said. "The original scroll is preserved in the Library of Alexandria. Third Circle, western quarter."

She lowered her wand and stared. "Third Circle? How did you get—never mind." She worried her lip. "I'll go right away. Undo the order that forces me to act as the Weasley spawn."

"Don't ask me this." He caressed her cheek. "It's dangerous, and I can't bear being separated from you."

She opened her mouth as if to snap at him, then closed it. "Please, Harry," she said, contorting her lips into an approximation of a smile. "I can take care of myself."

He shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh at her wooden acting. "If you want to go there so much, I'll come with you over the summer. I'll get us in and show you the scroll myself, promise."

She huffed and fingered her wand, appearing lost in thought. He waited patiently until her eyes flicked toward him.

"You said _one-sidedly_ ," she pointed out. "Is there another way to annul it?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Ah. Well, yes. I built a condition into the pact that will make it dissolve when fulfilled."

"A condition?" she demanded. "What is it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a little embarrassing, looking back on it. I thought the pact would no longer be necessary if we achieved the ultimate expression of love. Conceiving a child." Seeing her face cloud, he quickly clarified, "It's ancient magic, so the meanings aren't strictly defined. Just going through the motions with the right intent, as it were, ought to be enough."

Tamsyn gaped at him like a fish out of water before an angry flush suffused her cheeks. Grasping his lapels, she thrust her wand before his nose. "That's a lie. Tell me that's a lie!"

"But Tammy," he said with confusion, "you wanted to be with me. What about this displeases you? Old enemies coming to love each other... And in the moment of their joining, becoming true equals..." He smiled dreamily. "Our children will be beautiful and smart. I've seen them."

"You're out of your bloody mind!" The tip of her wand shook as she glared at him. "You... say you love me, right? That means you trust me?"

"Of course, Tamsyn," he said soothingly.

"Then prove it," she hissed. "Let me read your mind. I can't—the pact prevents me—"

His smile widened. " _Read it_."

Even as surprise crossed her face, her mouth was already forming the incantation. "Legilimens!"

His world shrank to a pair of bright brown eyes. It hurt, more than a little, as she rummaged through his mind with a criminal lack of grace. Like a nimble buckler parrying her greatsword, he directed her where he wanted her. The unfeigned affection he held for her, the joy at her proximity. The unvarnished truth of his words.

She pulled back with a shudder. "You're insane! I knew it, but now I've seen it too."

"I know what you're doing, Tamsyn," he whispered, causing her eyes to widen in alarm. "You're trying to push me away. It's scary, isn't it? For people like us to fall in love." Smiling gently, he stroked her hair. "But there's no need to be afraid. Love is a wonderful thing."

"Get away from me!" Ducking from under his hand, she wrenched the door open with a flick of her wand and dashed off along the hallway.

A pang of loss shot through him, and his legs began carrying him after her, but he forced himself to stop. Tamsyn was a bright and diligent witch. She would not be satisfied until she reexamined the runes on her skin and saw for herself. He clutched his chest as he stared wistfully down the hallway. Hopefully it would be sooner than later.

* * *

Harry rolled across the luxurious king-size bed, unable to contain his excitement. Above and around floated fragrant candles that cast their warm light upon pastel-colored walls and soft carpeting sprinkled with rose petals. Nothing but the best for the day they finally consummated their relationship in a way only a man and a woman could.

He glanced, for the umpteenth time, at a door into the bathroom helpfully created by the Room of Requirement. Tamsyn had adamantly refused his offer to bathe together, the adorable shy thing. Perhaps next time. He skimmed his palms across the silken sheets. She was taking a long time, but he supposed this was an important occasion and she wanted to look her best.

At last, the sound of running water cut off. He propped himself on an elbow. He hardly blinked during the minute that passed before the knob turned and Tamsyn peeked through the gap, her hair damp and her face flushed with warmth. Her sour expression filled him with a desire to do everything in his power to make her happy.

"Do I _have_ to wear this thing?" she asked caustically.

He pouted. "Don't you like it? I was thinking of you when I bought it."

She fixed him with a calculating look that she often directed at him during these Potion-haze-filled days. His sulky expression must have convinced her because she sighed and nudged the door open.

He perked up at the sight of the chemise covering her willowy figure—although _covering_ might have been too strong a word. The sheer fabric did not leave much to imagination, clinging to her perky breasts, hugging her narrow waist, and flaring out toward the bottom. So she had already put it on and was only grumbling on principle, the silly girl.

She fidgeted with the wand in her hands, and taking a bracing breath, walked toward him. There was nothing purposely erotic about her matter-of-fact stride, but he was mesmerized by the way the hem fluttered around her milky thighs nevertheless.

"You're beautiful," he said, lifting his gaze.

She averted her eyes and opened her mouth only to close it. "Thank you," she murmured. Laying down her wand on a bedside cabinet, she perched on the edge of the bed with her slender back to him.

"Don't be shy," he crooned, scooting closer. "You really are." He clasped her hand. "Tammy, look at me."

Her shoulders stiffened before she turned around with a strained smile. He beamed and reached up to cup her cheek, elation surging through him when she didn't recoil.

"You mean so much to me," he said softly. "I don't say this to anyone, but I do get lonely, and it's only with you that I can be myself. Aren't you the same, Tamsyn?"

Her face twisted, and she looked away, her fingers balling into fists. "After... after _everything_ , you have the nerve to say that?"

"I'm sorry, but it was the only way. To give you a new life, and to give myself a companion who could truly understand me." He hugged her from behind, feeling her tense. "It's all right, you'll come to see it. We're kindred souls, after all."

Her chest heaved with angry breaths, and she seemed about to retort several times. In the end, she only gave a short, mirthless laugh.

"Enough talk," she said. "Let's proceed with the ritual."

"Don't make it sound so clinical." He caressed her bare shoulder, watching goosebumps erupt on her skin. "It's a beautiful thing, the joining of lovers."

"Of course," she said bitterly, " _lovers_."

Despite her tone, his lips stretched into a smile. He leaned in and pecked her cheek, but she turned away. Not to be discouraged, he kissed down her pale neck and shoulder until he reached the thin strap of her chemise. Nudging the straps down her skinny arms, he cupped her firm breasts from behind.

Tamsyn's breath hitched as her puckered nipples dragged across his palm. He peppered her nape with kisses while fondling her breasts. He loved how she seemed to fill out a little more with each passing month. She squirmed more and more until twisting around to face him.

"L-let's do it already." She slipped out of his embrace and lay down on the bed, not looking his way.

Heaving a small sigh, he crawled up beside her. Her black hair splayed out underneath her, and her fair skin was flushed where he had touched. His heart ached at how beautiful she was; at how much he wanted her.

"I want to savor this." He braced his elbow by her side and peered into her eyes. "I want to savor _you_." Brushing her cheek tenderly, he leaned in for a kiss.

Her blush deepened and her eyes darted around in a panic before she exhaled in resignation and squeezed them shut. Her body was stiff as if in anticipation of pain but she did not turn her head aside. His heart raced in exhilaration as he closed his own eyes and kissed her.

His lips slid against her unmoving ones, softly, unhurriedly, until Tamsyn's dainty palms pushed at his chest.

"This is enough to satisfy the requirements, isn't it?" she asked in an unsteady voice. "Put—put it in."

He drew back with a pang of disappointment. "But, Tamsyn... I want it to be good for you too." He traced his palm down the valley between her breasts, over the silky fabric of her chemise, down her bare thigh.

She shivered at the touch. "Don't worry about that." Screwing up her face, she hiked up her chemise and parted her legs. "Please... I can't wait."

A jolt of delight went through him at her words, affected as they sounded. Smiling at her, he reached down and cupped her hot sex, causing her to inhale sharply. That she was looking forward to this as much as he filled him with almost unbearable happiness.

She squirmed and worried her lip as he stroked her gently. "I—I'm ready, just... come."

He felt like he would melt. He climbed on top of her, positioned himself at her entrance, and searched her face. She looked down at where their bodies were about to join with a mixture of yearning and trepidation.

"Are you sure you want this?" he whispered.

Her gaze lifted to his, and after a moment's hesitation, she gave a barely-there nod. "Take me... H-Harry." Her white fingers gripped the sheets.

"Tammy," he breathed, and plunged into her.

Her eyes went wide, and a gasp escaped her lips. He moaned as her molten wetness enveloped his tip, her insides clenching around the first intrusion they had accepted.

She blinked as if in a daze before her eyes regained sharpness. Her hands rose to his neck and closed around it without strength. Her eyes narrowed at him as her muscles quivered with effort.

"The pact," she hissed. "It's still there."

"I reckon I need to, um, finish," he whispered, feigning ignorance at her murderous intent.

She stared at him before releasing a long breath. "K-keep going." Arching her hips to meet him, she winced and bit her lip.

He groaned in pleasure as her motion took him deeper inside. "I don't want to hurt you—"

"I'm fine." Her hands on his neck instead hooked behind it, and her legs locked around his waist. She looked up at him with glimmering eyes. "I want this more than anything."

"Oh, Tammy." He brushed a tear from her eye. "Me too."

He pulled back a little, then slid into her, in and out, sinking deeper with each careful stroke. She was wet, she hadn't bluffed about being ready, but she was unused to having him inside, at times tightening up so much that it was difficult to move. Yet if he paused and gave her a concerned look, she would invariably pull him closer and urge him on with an impatient whisper.

Finally burying himself to the hilt, he peered lovingly at her flushed, strained expression. "You feel so good, Tammy."

"Don't stop," she whimpered.

He moved. Her hot breath, the smell of her hair, her soft embrace, and above all, her scalding depths consumed his senses. To have his beloved accept him so completely made him feel like he could die without regrets.

His breathing quickened as their coupling approached its inevitable climax. He loved her. He loved her. _He loved her_. His eyes locked with hers, trying to communicate his feelings without words. For once, she didn't look away, her lips moving in breathy, half-coherent encouragement.

"Tamsyn," he breathed, "I love you."

" _Yes_ ," her lips seemed to say.

His mind blanked, and he bucked into her. Her lanky limbs tightened around him almost possessively, and she gave an odd cry of pain and triumph. He pulsed inside her for endless moments, then sagged onto her with a groan.

"Potter." Her voice reached him as if from somewhere far away. "Get off me."

"Oh—sorry." Rolling off her, he propped his head on an elbow and gave her a languid smile. "That was wonderful, love." He looked her over and frowned at a small bloodstain on the sheets between her legs. "Are you alright?"

"Am I?" She reached for his chest, first brushing it with her fingertips, then raking with her nails, harder and harder, until they drew blood. Her lips stretched into a smile. "Oh, yes."

He raised an eyebrow, not acknowledging the pain. Tamsyn released a breath and exploded into motion, rolling off the bed and swiping her wand off the cabinet. She straightened up and leveled it at him, trembling.

"What's wrong?" he asked, still sprawled lazily over the bed.

"Oh, nothing's _wrong_ , Potter," she spat. "Not for the first time in years. I'm... I'm finally free." She glanced down at her bare front as if hardly daring believe it.

"Of course you are," he agreed. "I told you that was the condition."

She laughed hysterically. "You did, didn't you? I still can't believe how foolish you are, for all your power... You truly _are_ insane."

"Tammy," he chided, scooting along the bed toward her. "I thought we were on first-name terms now."

"Don't come near me!" She took an involuntary step back. "And don't call me by that name. My name is Voldemort! Do you hear me? I am Lord Voldemort!" Her chest heaved, and her eyes were wild.

"No, you're not," he said mildly, swinging his legs off the bed. "Don't cling to the past, Tamsyn."

"Voldemort is my past, my present, and my future!" Her wand shook as she leveled it at him. "I'm going to kill you, Potter. I would dearly like to"—her lip curled in disgust—" _savor_ it, but I can't stand seeing your face for a minute longer." She met his gaze and sneered. "Do you even understand the situation you're in, or did my potion melt whatever wits you had left?"

He smiled with fond exasperation. "You won't kill me, Tammy. Look into your heart. You gave yourself to me with the intention to bear my child." He rose to his feet and spread his hands invitingly. "Your place is by my side."

Her gaze flicked down, to the bloody proof of their coupling on her thighs, and she howled in fury. She ripped off her wrinkled chemise and summoned her robes from the bathroom to drape over herself. Then she gathered up her hair, shore off a good length, and threw the black tresses at him with a scream. Harry observed her fit with polite concern.

"I would prefer your last memory to be of me in my true form," she said venomously, "but this will do." She trained her wand on him. "Any last words, Potter?"

He stood unmoving, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You're making a mistake."

"Go to hell," she snarled. "Avada Kedavra!"

His smile did not waver as emerald light filled his vision. Then there was darkness.

* * *

Air rushed into his lungs as he awoke, his limbs twisted in a heap, the fluffy carpet tickling his nose. Something sticky trickled down his forehead, and his head ached—as, strangely enough, did his flank. Tamsyn's delirious rant was loud in his ears.

"Thinking yourself so superior... Look at you, piece of shit... String you up by your bollocks... Feed your corpse to Hagrid's beasts..." Her foot impacted his ribs painfully.

Ah, that explained it.

Wincing, he turned his head and looked up at her with a pained grin. Tamsyn blanched and recoiled, nearly tripping over her feet, her brown eyes wide as saucers.

"You have such a potty mouth," he said affectionately.

"No," she whispered with bloodless lips. "You—you can't be..."

He rose to his feet with a groan and brushed off the rose petals sticking to his skin. Tamsyn staggered backward, gaping at him as if he—well, as if he just returned from the dead. He couldn't help but snort.

"No. No, no, this cannot be..." Tamsyn's hand trembled as she aimed her wand at him, emerald light pooling at the tip.

"Come now." He spread his arms and smiled patronizingly. "Don't you know what they say about doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome?"

She wavered for a second, which was enough for him to summon his wand with a thought. That jolted her out of her stupor, and with a furious cry, she launched a gout of flame at him.

He took a step back and redirected it at her, evaporating the candles floating between them. A shimmering sheet of ice materialized to block it before exploding at him in a hail of icicles. Laughing, he wrenched the heavy bed into their path and banished it at Tamsyn. It exploded into smithereens, revealing her snarling, bloodied visage.

Dark curses lanced from her wand, only to break upon his silver shield. The air between them rippled and the floor fractured under their feet. He laughed and laughed. If only she had been this passionate during their lovemaking!

She fought like a cornered beast. Under different circumstances, she might've posed a challenge, but she was terrified, confused, and the ache between her legs seemed to impede her movement. He slipped an innocuous Disarming Charm through her defenses and chuckled as her wand sailed into his outstretched hand.

Tamsyn froze in shock before slumping to her knees as if having lost all her strength. She stared at the floor, then up at him.

"You never took my Amortentia, did you?" she asked hollowly.

"I did. You went through all that trouble; it would've been rude not to." He smiled blissfully. "It made me so happy... So content just to bask in your presence. But now that the haze has lifted, I am only more certain in my love for you."

"How?" she demanded, fixing him with a teary glare. "How is this possible?"

He arched an eyebrow. "You should know better than most that potions can't create true love. Infatuation, yes. Desire, certainly. But my feelings run so much deeper—"

"Shut up!" she cried, trying and failing to rise to her feet. "Spare me your asinine ramblings! How the hell are you _alive_ , you bloody freak?"

"I don't like people calling me that, you know... But you, I'll forgive. We have a special connection, after all." He smiled warmly at her. " _You_ tethered me to life, Tamsyn. Through our love, we became intertwined, even if temporarily. And your curse did take a soul, though it wasn't mine." He tapped his scar, his fingertip coming away red.

She stared at him in stunned silence.

He sighed. "I suppose you wouldn't understand just from that. Would it help if I showed you these?"

A swish of his wand summoned a satchel into his hands. Undoing the clasp, he pulled a golden chalice from the expanded space inside and tossed it toward Tamsyn. It rolled on the floor and came to a wobbling stop. Adorned with jewels and engraved with a finely detailed badger, it might've looked splendid at one point, but now its sheen was blackened, and a jagged hole gaped in its side.

Recognition crossed Tamsyn's face, and she yanked back the hand she had been stretching toward it.

He nodded in satisfaction. "You must've had your eyes on this one even at your age. What about these?"

A broken ring clinked to the floor. A mangled locket. Two halves of a diadem. A rotting snake's head. Tamsyn flinched as if struck as each object fell, and when a punctured diary flopped to the floor, she slumped forward on her hands and stared.

"Six... I succeeded." She gave a sound between a sob and a laugh. "I would have succeeded if it weren't for you."

"Seven," he corrected, tapping his forehead. "This one was an accident. Getting rid of it required an extremely unlikely confluence of circumstances, so... Thank you for helping me, Tammy."

She looked up in horror, then clutched her head. "I didn't—I couldn't have—"

"Oh, but you did. With your own hands, you destroyed the last thing tethering Lord Voldemort to life. He's gone forever." He raised his arms skyward and cackled. "And thus, with the power of love, the prophecy is fulfilled."

"No! Lies, all lies!" She shook her head furiously. "That's right... You _must_ be lying. There's still me. I'm still here!"

He came closer, looming over her. "You're not Voldemort. You're not even Tom Riddle anymore." His voice dropped to a low, soothing tone. "You must've realized that your existence isn't that of a horcrux possessing a person. You merged with Ginny and became something new. Something that was never meant to be."

"I'm... I'm still..." She sniveled and wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. "He'll return. I'll b-bring him back"—she choked on her own words—"bring _me_ back."

"See? Deep down, you already know it. You're Tamsyn. My beautiful abomination." Smiling lovingly, he offered her his hand. "There's nowhere for you to return to because you're already where you belong."

She peered at him with teary eyes and let out a desperate sob. Slowly, her shaky hand reached for his.


End file.
